Title: The Land of the Changing Sun
Author: Harben, Will N. (Will Nathaniel)
Language: English
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THE LAND OF THE CHANGING SUN


By Will. N. Harben



Chapter I.

The balloon seemed scarcely to move, though it was slowly sinking toward
the ocean of white clouds which hung between it and the earth.

The two inmates of the car were insensible; their faces were bloodless,
their cheeks sunken. They were both young and handsome. Harry Johnston,
an American, was as dark and sallow as a Spaniard. Charles Thorndyke,
an English gentleman, had yellow hair and mustache, blue eyes and a
fine intellectual face. Both were tall, athletic in build and
well-proportioned.

Johnston was the first to come to consciousness as the balloon sank
into less rarefied atmosphere. He opened his eyes dreamily and looked
curiously at the white face of his friend in his lap. Then he shook him
and tried to call his name, but his lips made no sound. Drawing himself
up a little with a hand on the edge of the basket, he reached for a
water-jug and sprinkled Thorndyke’s face. In a moment he was rewarded by
seeing the eyes of the latter slowly open.

“Where are we?” asked Thorndyke in a whisper.

“I don’t know;” Johnston answered, “getting nearer to the earth, for we
can breathe more easily. I can’t remember much after the professor fell
from the car. My God, old man! I shall never forget the horror in the
poor fellow’s eyes as he clung to the rope down there and begged us
to save him. I tried to get you to look, but you were dozing off. I
attempted to draw him up, but the rope on the edge of the basket was
tipping it, and both you and I came near following him. I tried to keep
from seeing his horrible face as the rope began to slip through his
fingers. I knew the instant he let go by our shooting upward.”

“I came to myself and looked over when the basket tipped,” replied the
Englishman, “I thought I was going too, but I could not stir a muscle to
prevent it. He said something desperately, but the wind blew it away and
covered his face with his beard, so that I could not see the movement of
his lips.”

“It may have been some instructions to us about the management of the
balloon.”

“I think not--perhaps a good-bye, or a message to his wife and child.
Poor fellow!”

“How long have we been out of our heads?” and Johnston looked over the
side of the car.

“I have not the slightest idea. Days and nights may have passed since he
fell.”

“That is true. I remember coming to myself for an instant, and it seemed
that we were being jerked along at the rate of a gunshot. My God, it
was awful! It was as black as condensed midnight. I felt your warm body
against me and was glad I was not alone. Then I went off again, but into
a sort of nightmare. I thought I was in Hell, and that you were with me,
and that Professor Helmholtz was Satan.”

“Where can we be?” asked Thorndyke.

“I don’t know; I can’t tell what is beneath those clouds. It may be
earth, sea or ocean; we were evidently whisked along in a storm while we
were out of our heads. If we are above the ocean we are lost.”

Thorndyke looked over the edge of the car long and attentively, then he
exclaimed suddenly:

“I believe it is the ocean.”

“What makes you think so?”

“It reflects the sunlight. It is too bright for land. When we got above
the clouds at the start it looked darker below than it does now; we may
be over the middle of the Atlantic.”

“We are going down,” said Johnston gloomily.

“That we are, and it means something serious.”

Johnston made no answer. Half-an-hour went by. Thorndyke looked at the
sun.

“If the professor had not dropped the compass, we could find our
bearings,” he sighed.

Johnston pointed upward. Thin clouds were floating above them. “We are
almost down,” he said, and as they looked over the sides of the car they
saw the reflection of the sun on the bosom of the ocean, and, a moment
later, they caught sight of the blue billows rising and falling.

“I see something that looks like an island,” observed Thorndyke, looking
in the direction toward which the balloon seemed to be drifting. “It is
dark and is surrounded by light. It is far away, but we may reach it if
we do not descend too rapidly.”

“Throw out the last bag of sand,” suggested the American, “we need it as
little now as we ever shall.”

Thorndyke cut the bag with his knife and watched the sand filter through
the bottom of the basket and trail along in a graceful stream behind the
balloon. The great flabby bag overhead steadied itself, rose slightly
and drifted on toward the dark spot on the vast expanse of sunlit water.
They could now clearly see that it was a small island, not more than a
mile in circumference.

“How far is it?” asked Thorndyke.

“About two miles,” answered the American laconically, “it is a chance
for us, but a slim one.”

The balloon gradually sank. For twenty minutes the car glided along not
more than two hundred feet above the waves. The island was now quite
near. It was a barren mound of stone, worn into gullies and sharp
precipices by the action of the waves and rain. Hardly a tree or a shrub
was in sight.

“It looks like the rocky crown of a great stone mountain hidden in the
ocean,” said the Englishman; “half a mile to the shore, a hundred feet
to the water; at this rate of speed the wind would smash us against
those rocks like a couple of bird’s eggs dropped from the clouds. We
must fall into the water and swim ashore. There is no use trying to save
the balloon.”

“We had better be about it, then,” said Johnston, rising stiffly and
holding to the ropes. “If we should go down in the water with the
balloon we would get tangled in the ropes and get asphyxiated with the
gas. We had better hang down under the basket and let go at exactly the
same time.”

The water was not more than forty feet beneath, and the island was
getting nearer every instant. The two aeronauts swung over on opposite
sides of the car and, face to face, hung by their hands beneath.

“I dread the plunge,” muttered Thorndyke; “I feel as weak as a sick
kitten; I am not sure that I can swim that distance, but the water looks
still enough.”

“I am played out too,” grunted the American, red in the face; “but it
looks like our only chance. Ugh! she made a big dip then. We’d better
let go. I’ll count three, and three is the signal. Now ready. One, two,
three!”

Down shot the balloonists and up bounded the great liberated bag of
gas; the basket and dangling ropes swung wildly from side to side. The
aeronauts touched the water feet foremost at the same instant, and in
half a minute they rose, not ten feet apart.

“Now for it,” sputtered Johnston, shaking his bushy head like a swimming
dog. “Look, the shore is not very far.” Thorndyke was saving his wind,
and said nothing, but accommodated his stroke to that of his companion,
and thus they breasted the gently-rolling billows until finally,
completely exhausted, they climbed up the shelving rocks and lay down in
the warm sunshine.

“Not a very encouraging outlook,” said Johnston, rising when his
clothing was dry and climbing a slight elevation. “There is nothing
in sight except a waste of stone. Let’s go up to that point and look
around.”

The ascent was exceedingly trying, for the incline was steep and it was
at times difficult to get a firm footing. But they were repaid for the
exertion, for they had reached the highest point of the island and could
see all over it. As far as their vision reached there was nothing beyond
the little island except the glistening waves that reached out till
they met the sky in all directions. High up in the clouds they saw the
balloon, now steadily drifting with the wind toward the south.

“We might as well be dead and done with it,” grumbled Thorndyke. “Ships
are not apt to approach this isolated spot, and even if they did, how
could we give a signal of distress?”

Johnston stroked his dark beard thoughtfully, then he pointed toward the
shore.

“There are some driftwood and seaweed,” he said; “with my sun-glass I
can soon have a bonfire.” He took a piece of punk from a waterproof box
that he carried in his pocket and focussed the sun’s rays on it. “Run
down and bring me an armful of dry seaweed and wood,” he added, intent
on his work.

Thorndyke clambered down to the shore, and in a few minutes returned
with an armful of fuel. Johnston was blowing his punk into a flame, and
in a moment had a blazing fire.

“Good,” approved the Englishman, rubbing his hands together over the
flames. “We’ll keep it burning and it may do some good.” Then a smile of
satisfaction came over his face as he began to take some clams from his
pockets. “Plenty of these fellows down there, and they are as fat and
juicy as can be. Hurry up and let’s bake them. I’m as hungry as a bear.
There is a fine spring of fresh water below, too, so we won’t die of
thirst.”

They baked the clams and ate them heartily, and then went down to the
spring near the shore. The water was deliciously cool and invigorating.
The sun sank into the quiet ocean and night crept on. The stars came out
slowly, and the moon rose full and red from the waves, adding its beams
to the flickering light of the fire on the hill-top.

“Suppose we take a walk all round on the beach,” proposed the
Englishman; “there is no telling what we may find; we may run on
something that has drifted ashore from some wrecked ship.”

Johnston consented. They had encompassed the entire island, which was
oval in shape, and were about to ascend to the rock to put fresh fuel
on the fire before lying down to sleep for the night, when Thorndyke
noticed a road that had evidently been worn in the rock by human
footsteps.

“Made by feet,” he said, bending down and looking closely at the rock
and raking up a handful of white sand, “but whether the feet of savage
or civilized mortal I can’t make out.”

Johnston was a few yards ahead of him and stooped to pick up something
glittering in the moonlight. It was a tap from the heel of a shoe and
was of solid silver.

“Civilized,” he said, holding it out to his companion; “and of the very
highest order of civilization. Whoever heard of people rich enough to
wear silver heel-taps.”

“Are you sure it is silver?” asked the Englishman, examining it closely.

“Pure and unalloyed; see how the stone has cut into it, and feel its
weight.”

“You are right, I believe,” returned Thorndyke, as Johnston put the
strange trophy into his pocket-book, and the two adventurers paused a
moment and looked mutely into each other’s eyes.

“We haven’t the faintest idea of where we are,” said Johnston, his tone
showing that he was becoming more despondent. “We don’t know how long we
were unconscious in the balloon, nor where we were taken in the storm.
We may now be in the very centre of the North Polar sea--this knob may
be the very pivot on which this end of the earth revolves.”

The Englishman laughed. “No danger; the sun is too natural. From the
poles it would look different.”

“I don’t mean the old sun that you read so much about, and that they
make so much racket over at home, but another of which we are the
original discoverer--a sun that isn’t in old Sol’s beat at all, but one
that revolves round the earth from north to south and dips in once a day
at the north and the south poles. See?”

The Englishman laughed heartily and slapped his friend on the shoulder.

“I think we are somewhere in the Atlantic; but your finding that
heel-tap does puzzle me.”

“We are going to have an adventure, beside which all others of our lives
will pale into insignificance. I feel it in my bones. See how evenly
this road has been worn and it is leading toward the centre of the
island.”

In a few minutes the two adventurers came to a point in the road where
tall cliffs on either side stood up perpendicularly. It was dark and
cold, and but a faint light from the moon shone down to them.

“I don’t like this,” said Johnston, who was behind the Englishman; “we
may be walking into the ambush of an enemy.”

“Pshaw!” and Thorndyke plunged on into the gloomy passage. Presently the
walls began to widen like a letter “Y” and in a great open space they
saw a placid lake on the bosom of which the moon was shining. On all
sides the towering walls rose for hundreds of feet. Speechless with
wonder and with quickly-beating hearts they stumbled forward over the
uneven road till they reached the shore of the lake. The water was so
clear and still that the moon and stars were reflected in it as if in a
great mirror.

“Look at that!” exclaimed Thorndyke, pointing down into the depths,
“what can that be?”

Johnston followed Thorndyke’s finger with his eyes. At first he thought
that it was a comet moving across the sky and reflected in the water;
but, on glancing above, he saw his mistake. It looked, at first, like a
great ball of fire rolling along the bottom of the lake with a stream of
flame in its wake.



Chapter II.

The two men watched it for several minutes; all the time it seemed to be
growing larger and brighter till, after a while, they saw that the light
came from something shaped like a ship, sharp at both ends, and covered
with oval glass. As it slowly rose to the surface they saw that it
contained five or six men, sitting in easy chairs and reclining on
luxurious divans. One of them sat at a sort of pilot-wheel and
was directing the course of the strange craft, which was moving as
gracefully as a great fish.

Then the young men saw the man at the pilot-wheel raise his hand,
and from the water came the musical notes of a great bell. The vessel
stopped, and one of the men sprang up and raised an instrument that
looked like a telescope to his eyes. With this he seemed to be closely
searching the lake shores, for he did not move for several minutes. Then
he lowered the instrument, and when the bell had rung again, the vessel
rose slowly and perpendicularly to the surface and glided to the shore
within twenty yards of where the adventurers stood.

“Could they have seen us?” whispered Thorndyke, drawing Johnston nearer
the side of the cliff.

“I think so; at all events, they are between us and the outlet; we may
as well make the best of it.”

The men, all except the pilot, landed, and a dazzling electric
search-light was turned on the spot where Thorndyke and Johnston stood.
For a moment they were so blinded that they could not see, and then they
heard footsteps, and, their eyes becoming accustomed to the light, they
found themselves surrounded by several men, very strangely clad. They
all wore long cloaks that covered them from head to foot and every man
was more than six feet in height and finely proportioned. One of them,
who seemed to be an officer in command, bowed politely.

“I am Captain Tradmos, gentlemen, in the king’s service. It is my duty
to make you my prisoners. I must escort you to the palace of the king.”

“That’s cool,” said Johnston, to conceal the discomfiture that he felt,
“we had no idea that you had a kingdom. We have tramped all over this
island, and you are the first signs of humanity we have met.”

He would have recalled his words before he had finished speaking, if he
could have done so, for he saw by the manner of the captain that he had
been over bold.

“Follow me,” answered the officer curtly, and with a motion of his hand
to his men he turned toward the odd-looking vessel.

The two adventurers obeyed, and the cloaked men fell in behind them.
Neither Johnston nor Thorndyke had ever seen anything like the peculiar
boat that was moored to the rocky shore. It was about forty feet in
length, had a hull shaped like a racing yacht, but which was made of
black rubber inflated with air. It was covered with glass, save for a
doorway about six feet high and three feet wide in the side, and looked
like a great oblong bubble floating on the still dark water. As they
approached the searchlight was extinguished, and they were enabled to
see the boat to a better advantage by the aid of the electric lights
that illuminated the interior. It was with feelings of awe that the two
adventurers followed the captain across the gang-plank into the vessel.

The electric light was brilliantly white, and in various places pink,
red and light-blue screens mellowed it into an artistic effect that was
very soothing to the eye. The ceiling was hung with festoons of prisms
as brilliant as the purest diamonds, and in them, owing to the gently
undulatory movement of the vessel, colors more beautiful than those of
a rainbow played entrancingly. Rare pictures in frames of delicate
gold were interspersed among the clusters of prisms, and the floor was
covered with carpets that felt as soft beneath the foot as pillows of
eider-down.

As he entered the door the officer threw off his gray cloak, and his men
did likewise, disclosing to view the finest uniforms the prisoners had
ever seen. Captain Tradmos’s legs were clothed in tights of light-blue
silk, and he wore a blue sack-coat of silk plush and a belt of pliant
gold, the buckles of which were ornamented with brilliant gems. His eyes
were dark and penetrating, and his black hair lay in glossy masses on
his shoulders. He had the head of an Apollo and a brow indicative of the
highest intellect.

Leaving his men in the first room that they entered, he gracefully
conducted his prisoners through another room to a small cabin in the
stern of the boat, and told them to make themselves comfortable on the
luxurious couches that lined the circular glass walls.

“Our journey will be of considerable length,” he said, “and as you are
no doubt fatigued, you had better take all the rest you can get. I see
that you need food and have ordered a repast which will refresh you.”
 As he concluded he touched a button in the wall and instantly a table,
laden with substantial food, rare delicacies and wines, rose through
a trap-door in the floor. He smiled at the expressions of surprise on
their faces and touched a green bottle of wine with his white tapering
hand.

“The greater part of our journey will be under water, and our wines
are specially prepared to render us capable of subsisting on a rather
limited quantity of air during the voyage, so I advise you to partake of
them freely; you will find them very agreeable to the taste.”

“We are very grateful,” bowed Thorndyke, from his seat on a couch. “I am
sure no prisoners were ever more graciously or royally entertained. To
be your prisoner is a pleasure to be remembered.”

“Till our heads are cut off, anyway,” put in the irrepressible American.

Tradmos smiled good-humoredly.

“I shall leave you now,” he said, and with a bow he withdrew.

“This is an adventure in earnest,” whispered Johnston; “my stars! what
can they intend to do with us?”

“One of the first things will be to take us down to the bottom of this
lake where we saw them awhile ago, and I don’t fancy it at all; what if
this blasted glass-case should burst? We may have dropped into a den of
outlaws on a gigantic scale, and it may be necessary to put us out of
the way to keep our mouths closed.”

“I am hungry, and am going to eat,” said the American, drawing a
cushioned stool up to the table. “Here goes for some of the wine;
remember, it is a sort of breath-restorer. I am curious enough not to
want to collapse till I have seen this thing through. He said something
about a palace and a king. Where can we be going?”

“Down into the centre of the earth, possibly,” and the handsome
Englishman moved a stool to the table and took the glass of
green-colored wine that Johnston pushed toward him. “Some scientists
hold that the earth is filled with water instead of fire. Who knows
where this blamed thing may not take us? Here is to a safe return from
the amphibious land!”

Both drank their wine simultaneously, lowered their glasses at the same
instant, and gazed into each other’s eyes.

“Did you ever taste such liquor?” asked Thorndyke, “it seems to run like
streams of fire through every vein I have.”

Johnston shook his head mutely, and held the sparkling effervescing
fluid between him and the light.

“Ugh! take it down,” cried the Englishman, “it throws a green color on
your face that makes you look like a corpse.” Johnston clinked the glass
against that of his companion and they drained the glasses. “Hush, what
was that?” asked Thorndyke.

There was a sound like boiling water outside and as if air were being
pumped out of some receptacle, and the vessel began to move up and down
in a lithe sort of fashion and to bend tortuously from side to side like
a great sluggish fish. Through the partitions of glass they saw one of
the men closing the door, and in a moment the vessel glided away from
the shore. The men all sank into easy positions on the couches, and
delightful music as soft as an Aeolian lyre seemed to be breathed from
the walls and floor. Then the music seemed to die away and a bell down
in the vessel’s hull rang.

“We are in the middle of the lake,” said Thorndyke, looking through
the glass toward the black cliffy shore; “the next thing will be our
descent. I wonder----”

But he was unable to proceed, and Johnston noticed in alarm that
his eyes were slightly protruding from their sockets. The air seemed
suddenly to become more compact as if compressed, and the water was set
into such violent commotion that it was dashed against the glass sides
in billows as white as snow. Then Johnston found that he could not
breathe freely, and he understood the trouble of the Englishman.

Captain Tradmos came suddenly to the door. He was smiling as he motioned
toward the wines on the table.

“You had better drink more of the wine,” he advised sententiously.

Both of the captives rushed to the table. The instant they had swallowed
the wine they felt relieved, but were still weak. The captain bowed and
went away. Thorndyke’s hand trembled as he refilled his friend’s glass.
“I thought I was gone up,” he said, “I never had such a choky sensation
in my life; you are still purple in the face.”

“Eat of what is before you,” said the captain, looking in at the door;
“you cannot stand the increasing pressure unless you do.”

They needed no second invitation, for they were half-famished. The fish
and meat were delicious, and the bread was delightfully sweet.

“Look outside!” cried Johnston. The water was now still, but it was
gradually rising up the sides of the boat, and in a moment it had closed
over the crystal roof. Both of the captives were conscious of a heavy
sensation in the head and a dull roaring in the ears. Down they went, at
first slowly and then more rapidly, till it seemed to them that they had
descended over a thousand feet. Great monsters like whales swam to the
vessel, as if attracted by the lights, and their massive bodies jarred
against the glass walls as they turned to swim away. They sank about
five hundred feet lower; and all at once the lights went out, and the
boat gradually stopped.

It was at once so dark that the two captives could not see each other,
though only the width of the table separated them. Everything was
profoundly still; not a sound came from the men in the other rooms.
Presently Thorndyke whispered, “Look, do you see that red light
overhead?”

“Yes,” said Johnston, “it looks like a star.”

“It is our bonfire,” said Thorndyke, “that’s what betrayed us.”

Again the vessel began to sink, and more rapidly than ever; indeed,
as Thorndyke expressed it, he had the cool feeling that nervous people
experience in going down quickly in an elevator.

“If we go any lower,” he added, as the great rubber hull seemed to
struggle like some living monster, “the sides of this thing will
collapse like an egg-shell and we will be as flat as pancakes.”

“You need not fear, we have much lower to go!” It was the captain’s
voice, but they could not tell from whence it came. Then they heard
again the seductive music, and it was so soothing that they soon fell
asleep.

They had no idea how long they had slept, but they were awakened by the
ringing of a bell and felt the vessel was coming to a stop. They were
still far beneath the surface; indeed, the boat was resting on the
bottom, for in the light of two or three powerful search-lights they saw
a wide succession of submerged hills, vales, and rugged cliffs. Before
them was a great mountain-side and in it they saw the mouth of a dark
tunnel. They had scarcely noticed it before the vessel rose a little and
glided toward the tunnel and entered it. Through the glass walls they
could see that it was narrow, and that the ragged sides and roof were
barely far enough apart to admit them.

Suddenly one of the men came in and drew a curtain down behind them,
and, with a vexed look on his face retired.

When he was gone Johnston put his lips close to Thorndyke’s ear and
whispered:

“Did you see that?”

“See what?”

“Just as he drew the curtain down I saw what looked to me like a cliff
of solid gold. It had been dug out into a cavern in which I saw a vessel
like this, and men in diving suits digging and loading it.”

This took the Englishman’s breath away for a moment, then he remarked:
“That accounts for the heel-tap we found; who knows, these people may be
possessors of the richest gold and silver mines on earth.”

The bell rang again. “We are rising,” said Johnston. “If this is the
only way of reaching the king’s domain, we could never get back
to civilization unless they release us of their own accord, that’s
certain!”

“Heavens, isn’t it still!” exclaimed the Englishman. “The machinery
of this thing moves as noiselessly as the backbone of an eel. I wish I
could understand its works.”

“I am more concerned about where we are going. I tell you we are being
taken to some wonderful place. People who can construct such marvels of
mechanical skill as this boat will not be behind in other things; then
look at the physiques of those giants.”

Just then the man who had drawn down the shade came in and raised it.
Both the captives pretended to be uninterested in his movements, but
when he had withdrawn they looked through the glass eagerly.

“See,” whispered Thorndyke, in the ear of his companion, “the walls are
close to us, and are as perpendicular as those of the lake in which they
found us.”

Johnston said nothing. His attention was riveted to the walls of rock;
the vessel was rising rapidly. An hour passed. The soft music had
ceased, and the air seemed less dense and fresher. Then the waters
suddenly parted over the roof and ran in crystal streams down the oval
glass.

They were on the surface, and the vessel was slowly gliding toward the
shore which could not be seen owing to there now being no light except
that inside the boat. Captain Tradmos entered, followed by two of his
men holding black silken bandages.

“We must blindfold you,” he said; “captives are not allowed to see the
entrance to our kingdom.”

Without a word they submitted.

“This way,” said the captain kindly, and, holding to an arm of each, he
piloted them out of the vessel to the shore. Then he led them through
what they imagined to be a long stone corridor or arcade from the
ringing echoes of their feet on the stone pavement. Presently they came
to what seemed to be an elevator, for when they had entered it and sat
down, they heard a metallic door slide back into its place, and they
descended quickly.

They could form no idea as to the distance they went down; but Thorndyke
declared afterward that it was over ten thousand feet. When the elevator
stopped Captain Tradmos led them out, and both of the captives were
conscious of breathing the purest, most invigorating air they had ever
inhaled. Instantly their strength returned, and they felt remarkably
buoyant as they were led along over another pavement of polished stone.

Tradmos laughed. “You like the atmosphere?”

“I never heard of anything like it,” said Thorndyke. “It is so
delightful I can almost taste it.”

“It was that which made Alpha what it is--the most wonderful country in
the universe,” said the officer. “There is much in store for you.”

The ears of the two captives were greeted by a vague, indefinable hum,
like and yet unlike that of a busy city. It was like many far-off sounds
carefully muffled. Now and then they heard human voices, laughter, and
singing in the distance, and the twanging of musical instruments.

Then they knew that they were entering a building of some sort, for they
heard a key turn in a lock and the humming sound in the distance was
cut off. They felt a soft carpet under their feet, and the feet of their
guards no longer clinked on the stones.

When the bandages were removed they found themselves in a sumptuous
chamber, alone with the captain. The brilliant light from a
quaintly-shaped candelabrum, in the centre of the chamber, dazzled them,
but in a few minutes their eyes had become accustomed to it.

Tradmos seemed to be enjoying the looks of astonishment on their faces
as they glanced at the different objects in the room.

“It is night,” he said smilingly. “You need rest after your voyage.
Lie down on the beds and sleep. To-morrow you will be conducted to the
palace of the king.”

With a bow he withdrew, and they heard a massive bolt slide into the
socket of a door hidden behind a curtain. The two men gazed at each
other without speaking, for a moment, and then they began to inspect the
room.

In alcoves half-veiled with silken curtains stood statues in gold and
bronze. The walls and ceilings were decorated with pictures unlike any
they had ever seen. Before one, the picture of an angel flying through a
dark, star-filled sky, they both stood enchanted.

“What is it?” asked Thorndyke, finding voice finally. “It is not done
with brush or pencil; the features seem alive and, by Jove, you can
actually see it breathe. Don’t you see the clouds gliding by, and the
wings moving?”

“It is light--it is formed by light!” declared the other
enthusiastically, and he ran to the wall, about six feet from the
picture, and put his hand on a square metal box screwed to the wall.

“I have it,” he said quickly, “come here!”

The Englishman advanced curiously and examined the box.

“Don’t you see that tiny speck of light in the side towards the picture?
Well, the view is thrown from this box on the wall, and it is the motion
of the powerful light that gives apparent life to the angel. It is
wonderful.”

In a commodious alcove, in a glow of pink light from above, was a
life-sized group of musicians--statues in colored metal of a Spanish
girl playing a mandora, an Italian with a slender calascione, a Russian
playing his jorbon, and an African playing a banjo. Luxurious couches
hung by spiral springs from the ceiling to a convenient height from the
floor, and here and there lay rugs of rare beauty and great ottomans of
artistic designs and colors.

“We ought to go to bed,” proposed Thorndyke; “we shall have plenty of
time to see this Aladdin’s land before we get away from it.”

There were two large downy beds on quaintly wrought bedsteads of brass,
but the two captives decided to sleep together.

Thorndyke was the first to awaken. The lights in the candelabrum were
out, but a gray light came in at the top and bottom of the window. He
rose and drew the heavy curtain of one of the windows aside. He shrank
back in astonishment.



Chapter III.

“What is it, Thorndyke? What are you looking at?” And the American
slowly left the bed and approached his friend.

Thorndyke only held the curtain further back and watched Johnston’s face
as he looked through the wide plate-glass window.

“My gracious!” ejaculated the latter as he drew nearer. It was a
wondrous scene. The building in which they were imprisoned stood on a
gentle hill clad in luxuriant, smoothly-cut grass and ornamented with
beautiful flowers and plants; and below lay a splendid city--a city
built on undulating ground with innumerable grand structures of white
marble, with turrets, domes and pinnacles of gold. Wide streets paved
in polished stone and bordered with lush-green grass interspersed with
statues and beds and mounds of strange plants and flowers stretched away
in front of them till they were lost in the dim, misty distance. Parks
filled with pavilions, pleasure-lakes, fountains and tortuous drives and
walks, dotted the landscape in all directions.

Thorndyke’s breath had clouded the glass of the window, and he rubbed
it with his handkerchief. As he did so the sash slowly, and without
a particle of sound, slid to one side, disclosing a narrow balcony
outside. It had a graceful balustrade, made of carved red-and-white
mottled marble, and on the end of the balcony facing the city sat a
great gold and silver jug, ten feet high, of rare design. The spout was
formed by the body of a dragon with wings extended; the handle was a
serpent with the extremity of its tail coiled around the neck of the
jug.

The air that came in at the window was fresh and dewy, and laden with
the most entrancing odors. Thorndyke led the way out, treading very
gently at first. Johnston followed him, too much surprised to make any
comment. From this position, their view to the left round the corner of
the building was widened, and new wonders appeared on every hand.

Over the polished stone pavements strange vehicles ran noiselessly, as
if the wheels had cushioned tires, and the streets were crowded with an
active, strangely-clad populace.

“Look at that!” exclaimed the American, and from a street corner they
saw a queer-looking machine, carrying half-a-dozen passengers, rise like
a bird with wings outspread and fly away toward the east. They watched
it till it disappeared in the distance.

“We are indeed in wonderland,” said the Englishman; “I can’t make head
nor tail of it. We were on an isolated island, the Lord only knows
where, and have suddenly been transported to a new world!”

“I can’t feel at all as if we were in the world we were born in,”
 returned Johnston. “I feel strange.”

“The wine,” suggested the Englishman, “you know it did wonders for us in
that subwater thing.”

“No; the wine has nothing to do with it. My head never was clearer. The
very atmosphere is peculiar. The air is invigorating, and I can’t get
enough of it.”

“That is exactly the way I feel,” was Thorndyke’s answer.

“Look at the sunlight,” went on Johnston; “it is gray like our dawn, but
see how transparent it is. You can look through it for miles and miles.
It is becoming pink in the east, the sun will soon be up, and I am
curious to see it.”

“It must be up now, but we cannot see it for the hills and buildings. My
goodness, see that!” and the Englishman pointed to the east. A flood of
delicate pink light was now pouring into the vast body of gray and
was slowly driving the more sombre color toward the west. The line
of separation was marked--so marked, indeed, that it seemed a vast,
rose-colored billow rolling, widening and sweeping onward like a swell
of the ocean shoreward. On it came rapidly, till the whole landscape was
magically changed. The flowers, the trees, the grass, the waters of the
lakes, the white buildings, the costumes of the people in the streets,
even the sky, changed in aspect. The white clouds looked like fire-lit
smoke, and far toward the west rolled the long line of pink still
struggling with the gray and driving it back.

The sun now came into sight, a great bleeding ball of fire slowly rising
above the gilded roofs in the distance.

“By Jove, look at our shadows!” exclaimed Johnston, and both men gazed
at the balcony floor in amazement; their shadows were as clearly defined
and black as silhouettes. “How do you account for that?” continued
the American, “I am firmly convinced that this sun is not the orb that
shines over my native land.”

Thorndyke laughed, but his laugh was forced. “How absurd! and yet--” He
extended his hand over the balustrade into the rosy glow, and
without concluding his remark held it back into the shadow of the
window-casement. “By Jove!” he exclaimed; “there is not a particle of
warmth in it. It is exactly the same temperature in the shade as in the
light.” He moved back against the wall. “No; there is no difference; the
blamed thing doesn’t give out any warmth.”

Johnston’s hands were extended in the light. “I believe you are right,”
 he declared in awe, “something is wrong.”

At that moment appeared from the room behind them a handsome youth,
attired in a suit of scarlet silk that fitted his athletic figure
perfectly. He rapped softly on the window-casement and bowed when they
turned.

“Your breakfast is waiting for you,” he announced. They followed him
into a room adjoining the one they had occupied, and found a table
holding a sumptuous repast. The boy gave them seats and handed them
golden plates to eat upon. The fruits, wine and meats were very
appetizing, and they ate with relish.

“I believe we are to be conducted to the palace of your king to-morrow,”
 ventured the Englishman to the boy.

The boy shook his head, but made no reply, and busied himself with
removing the dishes. As they were rising from the table, they heard
footsteps in the hall outside. The door opened. It was Captain Tradmos,
and he was accompanied by a tall, bearded man with a leather case under
his arm.

“You must undergo a medical examination,” the captain said smilingly.
“It is our invariable custom, but this is by a special order from the
king.”

Johnston shuddered as he looked at the odd-looking instruments the
medical man was taking from the case, but Thorndyke watched his
movements with phlegmatic indifference. He stood erect; threw back his
shoulders; expanded his massive chest and struck it with his clenched
fist in pantomimic boastfulness.

Tradmos smiled genially; but there was something curt and official in
his tone when he next spoke that took the Englishman slightly aback.
“You must bare your breast over your heart and lungs,” he said; and
while Thorndyke was unbuttoning his shirt, he and the medical man went
to the door and brought into the room a great golden bell hanging in a
metallic frame.

The bell was so thin and sensitive to the slightest jar or movement
that, although it had been handled with extreme care, the captives could
see that it was vibrating considerably, and the room was filled with a
low metallic sound that not only affected the ear of the hearer but set
every nerve to tingling. The medical man stopped the sound by laying his
hand upon the bell. To a tube in the top of the bell he fastened one end
of a rubber pipe; the other end was finished with a silver device shaped
like the mouth-piece of a speaking tube. This he firmly pressed over the
Englishman’s heart. Thorndyke winced and bit his lip, for the
strange thing took hold of his flesh with the tenacity of a powerful
suction-pump.

“Ouch!” he exclaimed playfully, but Johnston saw that he had turned
pale, and that his face was drawn as if from pain.

“Hold still!” ordered the medical man; “it will be over in a minute;
now, be perfectly quiet and listen to the bell!”

The Englishman stood motionless, the sinews of his neck drawn and
knotted, his eyes starting from their sockets. Thorndyke felt the rubber
tube quiver suddenly and writhe with the slow energy of a dying snake,
and then from the quivering bell came a low, gurgling sound like a
stream of water being forced backward and forward.

Tradmos and the medical man stepped to the bell and inspected a small
dial on its top.

“What was that?” gasped the Englishman, purple in the face.

“The sound of your blood,” answered Tradmos, as he removed the
instrument from Thorndyke’s flesh; “it is as regular as mine; you are
very lucky; you are slightly fatigued, but you will be sound in a day or
two.”

“Thank you,” replied the Englishman, but he sank into a chair, overcome
with weakness.

“Now, I’ll take you, please,” said the medical man, motioning Johnston
to rise.

“I am slightly nervous,” apologized the latter, as he stood up and
awkwardly fumbled the buttons of his coat.

“Nervousness is a mental disease,” said the man, with professional
brusqueness; “it has nothing to do with the body except to dominate it
at times. If you pass your examination you may live to overcome it.”

The American looked furtively at Thorndyke, but the head of the
Englishman had sunk on his breast and he seemed to be asleep. Johnston
had never felt so lonely and forsaken in his life. From his childhood he
had entertained a secret fear that he had inherited heart disease, and
like Maupassant’s “Coward,” who committed suicide rather than meet a
man in a duel, he had tried in vain to get away from the horrible,
ever-present thought by plunging into perilous adventures.

At that moment he felt that he would rather die than know the worst from
the uncanny instrument that had just tortured his strong comrade till he
was overcome with exhaustion.

“I never felt better in my life,” he said falteringly, but it seemed to
him that every nerve and muscle in his frame was withering through fear.
His tongue felt clumsy and thick and his knees were quivering as with
ague.

“Stand still,” ordered the physician sternly, and Johnston was further
humiliated by having Tradmos sympathetically catch hold of his arm to
steady him.

“Your people are far advanced in the sciences,” went on the physician
coldly, “but there are only a few out of their number who know that the
mind governs the body and that fear is its prime enemy. Five minutes ago
you were eating heartily and had your share of physical strength, and
yet the mere thought that you are now to know the actual condition of
your most vital organ has made you as weak as an infant. If you kept up
this state of mind for a month it would kill you.

“Now listen,” he went on, as the instrument gripped Johnston’s flesh and
the rubber tube began to twist and move as if charged with electricity.
The American held his breath. A sound as of water being forced through
channels that were choked, mingled with a wheezing sound like wind
escaping from a broken bellows came from the bell.

“Your frame is all right,” said the medical man, as he released the
trembling American, “but you have long believed in the weakness of your
heart and it has, on that account, become so. You must banish all fear
from your thoughts. You perhaps know that we have a place specially
prepared for those who are not physically sound. I am sorry that you do
not stand a better examination.”

Tradmos regarded the American with a look of sympathy as he gave him a
chair and then rang a bell on the table. Thorndyke looked up sleepily,
as an attendant entered with a couple of parcels, and glanced
wonderingly at his friend’s white face and bloodshot eyes.

“What’s the matter?” he asked; but Johnston made no reply, for the
captain had opened the parcels and taken out two suits of silken
clothing.

“Put them on,” he said, giving a suit of gray to Johnston and one of
light blue to Thorndyke. “We shall leave you to change your attire, and
I shall soon come for you.”



Chapter IV.

In a few minutes the captain returned and found his prisoners ready to
go with him. Thorndyke looked exceedingly handsome in his glossy tights,
close-fitting sack-coat, tinsel belt and low shoes with buckles of gold.
The natural color had come back into his cheeks, and he was exhilarated
over the prospect of further adventure.

It was not so, however, with poor Johnston; his spirits had been so
dampened by the physician’s words that he could not rally from
his despondency. His suit fitted his figure as well as that of the
Englishman, but he could not wear it with the same hopeful grace.

“Cheer up!” whispered Thorndyke, as they followed the captain through
a long corridor, “if we are on our way to the stake or block we are at
least going dressed like gentlemen.”

Outside they found the streets lined with spectators eagerly waiting to
see them pass. The men all had suits like those which had been given the
captives, and the women wore flowing gowns like those of ancient Greece.

“These are the common people,” whispered Thorndyke to Johnston, “but
did you ever dream of such perfect features and physiques? Every face is
full of merriment and good cheer. I am curious to see the royalty.”

Johnston made no reply, for Captain Tradmos turned suddenly and faced
them.

“Stand here till I return,” he said, and he went back into the house.

“Where in the deuce do you think we are?” pursued Thorndyke with a grim
smile.

“Haven’t the slightest idea,” sighed Johnston, and he shuddered as he
looked down the long white street with its borders of human faces.

Thorndyke was observant.

“There is not a breath of air stirring,” he said; “and yet the
atmosphere is like impalpable delicacies to a hungry man’s stomach.
Look at that big tree, not a leaf is moving, and yet every breath I draw
is as fresh as if it came from a mountain-top. Did you ever see such
flowers as those? Look at that ocean of orchids.”

“They think we are a regular monkey-show,” grumbled the American. “Look
how the crowd is gaping and shoving and fighting for places to see us.”

“It’s your legs they want to behold, old fellow. Do you know I never
knew you had such knotty knee-joints; did you ever have rheumatism? I
wish I had ‘em; they wouldn’t put me to death--they would make me the
chief attraction in the royal museum.” Thorndyke concluded his jest with
a laugh, but the face of his friend did not brighten.

“You bet that medical examination meant something serious,” he said.

“Pooh!” and the Englishman slapped his friend playfully on the shoulder.

“Since I have seen that vast crowd of well-developed people, and
remember what that medicine man said, I have made up my mind that we are
going to be separated.” Poor Johnston’s lip was quivering.

“Rubbish! but there comes the captain; put on a bold front; talk up New
York; tell ‘em about Chicago and the Fair, and ask to be allowed to
ride in their Ferris Wheel--if they ain’t got no wheel, ask ‘em when the
first train leaves town.”

“This is no time for jokes,” growled Johnston, as Tradmos returned.
Tradmos motioned to something that in the distance looked like
a carriage, but which turned out to be a flying machine. It rose
gracefully and glided over the ground and settled at their feet. It
was large enough to seat a dozen people, and there was a little
glass-windowed compartment at the end in which they could see “the
driver,” as he was termed by Tradmos. The mysterious machinery was
hidden in the woodwork overhead and beneath.

“Get in,” said the captain, and the door flew open as if of its own
accord. Thorndyke went in first and was followed by the moody American.
“Let up on the ague,” jested Thorndyke, nudging his friend with his
elbow; “if you keep on quivering like that you may shake the thing loose
from its moorings and we’d never know what became of us.”

Johnston scowled, and the officer, who had overheard the remark, smiled
as he leaned toward the window and gave some directions to the man in
the other compartment.

“You both take it rather coolly,” he remarked to Thorndyke. “I took a
man and a woman over this route several years ago and both of them were
in a dead faint; but, in fact, you have nothing to fear. We never have
accidents.”

“It is as safe as a balloon, I suppose, and we are at home in them,”
 said the Englishman, with just the hint of a swagger in his tone.

“But your balloons are poor, primitive things at best,” returned Tradmos
in his soft voice. “They can’t be compared to this mode of travel,
though, of course, our machines would not operate in your atmosphere.”

“Why not?” impulsively asked the Englishman. “I thought----”

But he did not conclude his remark, for they were rising, and both he
and Johnston leaned apprehensively forward and looked out of one of the
windows. Down below the long lines of people were silently waving their
hats, scarfs and handkerchiefs as the machine swept along over their
heads. As they rose higher the scene below widened like a great circular
fan, and in the delicate roselight, the whole so appealed to Thorndyke’s
artistic sense that he ejaculated:

“Glorious! Superb! Transcendent!” and he directed Johnston’s attention
to the wonderful pinkish haze which lay over the view toward the west
like a vast diaphanous web of rosy sunbeams.

“You ask why our air-ships would not operate in your atmosphere,” said
the captain, showing pleasure at Thorndyke’s enthusiasm. “It is simple
enough when you have studied the climatic differences between the two
countries. You have much to contend with--the winds, for instance, the
heat and cold, etc.; this is the only known country where the winds are
subjugated. I have never been in your world, but from what I have heard
of it I am not anxious to see it. Your atmosphere and climate are so
changeable and so diverse in different localities that I have heard your
people spend much of their time in seeking congenial climes. I think it
was a man who came from London that claimed he once had a cold--‘a bad
cold,’ I think he called it. It was a standing joke in the royal family
for a long time, and he heard so much about it that he tried to deny
what he had said!”

Johnston glanced at the speaker non-plussed, but the captain was looking
at Thorndyke.

“Your climate is delightful here now,” said the Englishman; “is it so
long at a time?”

“Perpetually; it is regulated every moment, and every year we perfect it
in some way.”

“Perfect it?”

“Yes, of course, why not? If it ever fails to be up to the usual high
standard, it is owing to neglect of those in charge, and neglect is
punished severely.”

Thorndyke’s eyes sought those of the American incredulously. Seeing
which Tradmos looked amused.

“You doubt it,” he smiled. “Well, wait till you have been here longer.
The fact is, any one born in our climate could not live in yours. The
king experimented on a man who claimed to have only one lung, but who
had two sound ones when he was cut open. Well, the king sent him to
China, or America, or some such place, and he wheezed himself to death
in a week by your clocks. The weather was too fickle for him. Our system
has been perfected to such an extent that we live four lives to your
one, and our fruits and vegetables are a hundred per cent. better than
those in other countries.”

“What is the name of your country?” asked Thorndyke, feeling that he was
not losing anything by his boldness.

“Alpha.”

“Where is it located?”

“I don’t know.” Tradmos looked out at the window for a moment as if to
ascertain that they were going in the right direction, then he fixed his
dark eyes on Thorndyke and asked hesitatingly:--

“I never thought--I--but do you know where your country is located?”

“Why, certainly.”

“Well, I don’t know where this one is. We are taught everything, I
think, except geography.” Nothing more was said for several minutes,
then an exclamation of admiration broke from the Englishman. The color
of the sunlight was changing. From east to west within the entire arc of
their observation rolled an endless billow of lavender light leaving a
placid sea of the same color behind it. On it swept, slowly driving back
the pink glow that had been over everything.

“I see you like our sunlight?” said Tradmos, half interrogatively.

“Never saw anything like it before.”

“Yours is, I think, the same color all day long.”

“Except on rainy days.”

“Must be a great bore, monotonous--too much sameness. It is white, is it
not?”

“Yes, rather--between white and yellow, I call it.”

“Something like our sixth hour, I suppose; this is the fourth hour of
morning. Then come blue, yellow, green, and at noon red. The afternoon
is divided up in the same way. The first hour is green, then follow
yellow, blue, lavender, rose, gray and purple. Yes, I should think you
would find yours somewhat tiresome.”

“We can rely on it,” said Johnston speaking for the first time and in a
wavering voice, “it is always there.”

“Doing business at the old stand,” laughed Thorndyke, attempting an
Americanism.

“Well, that is a comfort, anyway,” said the captain seriously. “In my
time they have had no solar trouble, but some of the old people tell
horrible tales of a period when our sun for several days did not shine
at all.”

“Can it be possible?” said the Englishman dubiously.

“Oh, yes; and the early settlers had a great deal of trouble in
different ways; but I am not at liberty to give you information on that
head. It is the king’s special pleasure to have new-comers form their
own impressions, and he is particularly fond of noting their surprise,
and, above all, their approval. People usually come here of their own
accord through the influence of our secret force of agents all over the
earth, but you were brought because you happened to drop on our island
and would have found out too much for our good, and that red light you
kept burning night and day might have given us trouble. There is no
telling how long you could have kept alive on those clams.”

“We meant no offence,” apologized Thorndyke; “we----”

“Oh, I know it, I was only explaining the situation,” interrupted the
officer.

“What is that bright spot to the right?” asked Thorndyke, to change the
subject.

“The king’s palace; that is the dome. We shall soon be there. Now,
I must not talk to you any longer. Somebody may be watching us with
glasses. I have taken a liking to you, and some time, when I get the
opportunity, I shall give you some useful advice, but I must treat you
very formally, at least till you have had audience with the king.”

“Thank you,” said the Englishman, and Tradmos stood up in the car to
watch their progress through the circular glass of a little cupola on
top. Thorndyke smiled at Johnston, but the American was in no pleasant
mood. The indifference with which Tradmos had treated him had nettled
him.

The machine was now slowly descending. A vast pile of white marble, with
many golden domes and spires, rose between them and the earth below.

“To the balcony on the central dome,” ordered Tradmos through the window
of the driver’s compartment; and the adventurers felt the car sweep
round in a curve that threw them against each other, and the next moment
they had landed on a wide iron balcony encircling a great golden cone
that towered hundreds of feet above them.



Chapter V.

“Follow me,” said the captain stiffly, for there were several guards in
white and gold uniforms pacing to and fro on the battlement-like walls.
He led the two adventurers through a door in the base of the dome. At
first they were dazed by a brilliant light from above, and looking
up they beheld a marvel of kaleidoscopic colors formed by a myriad of
electric-lighted prisms sloping gradually from the floor to the apex
of the dome. Thorndyke could compare it to nothing but a stupendous
diamond, the very heart of which the eye penetrated.

“Don’t look at it now,” advised Tradmos, in an undertone; “it was
constructed to be seen from below, and to light the great rotunda.”

Mutely the captives obeyed. At every turn they were greeted with a new
wonder. The captain now led them round a narrow balcony on the inside of
the vast dome, and, looking over the railing down below, they saw a vast
tessellated pavement made of polished stones of various and brilliant
colors and so artistically arranged that, from where they stood,
lifelike pictures of landscapes seemed to rise to meet the vision
wherever the eye rested. Statues of white marble, gold and bronze were
placed here and there, and, in squares of living green, fountains threw
up streams of crystal water. Tradmos paused for them to look down and
smiled at their evident admiration.

“How far is it down there?” Thorndyke ventured to ask.

“Over a thousand feet,” replied Tradmos. “Look across opposite and you
will see that there are fifty floors beneath us, and each floor has a
balcony like this overlooking the court.”

“What is the sound that comes up from below?” asked the Englishman.

“It is the voices of the people and their footsteps on the stone.”

“What people?”

“Don’t you see them? Your eyes are dazzled by the light; I ought to have
warned you against looking up into the dome. The people are down there;
do the views in the pavement not look a little blurred?”

“Yes.”

“Well, if you will look more closely you will see that it is a multitude
of people.”

“Great heavens!” exclaimed the Englishman, and he became deeply absorbed
in the contemplation of the rarest sight he had ever seen. As he looked
closely he noticed a black spot growing larger and nearer, and he
glanced inquiringly at the captain.

“It is an elevator. There are a great many of them used in the palace,
but none have happened to rise as high as this since we came. The one
you see is coming for us.” The next moment the strange vehicle was
floating toward them. The captain opened the door and preceded the
captives into the interior.

“The royal audience chamber,” he said, carelessly, to the driver behind
the glass of the adjoining compartment, and down they floated as lightly
as a bubble--down past balcony after balcony, laden with moving throngs,
until they alighted in a great conservatory.

Near them was a tall fountain the water of which was playing weird music
on great bells of glass, some of which hung in the fountain’s stream
and others rose and fell, giving forth strange, submerged tones in the
foaming basin.

“It is a new invention recently placed here by the king’s son who is a
musical genius,” explained Tradmos. “You will be astonished at some of
his inventions.”

He led them, as if to avoid the great crowds that they could now hear
on all sides, down a long vista of palms, the branches of which met over
their heads, to the wide door of the audience chamber. A party of men
dressed in uniforms of white silk with gold and silver ornaments bowed
before the captain and made way for him.

The captives now found themselves in the most splendid and spacious room
they had ever seen, at the far end of which was a long dais and on it an
elaborate throne.

“I shall be obliged to leave you when the king comes,” said Tradmos to
Thorndyke, “but I shall hope to see you again. Don’t forget my name and
rank, for I may send you a message some time that may aid you.” “Thank
you,” replied the Englishman, and then as a throng of beautiful young
women came from a room on the side and gathered about the throne he
added inquisitively: “Who are they?”

“The wives and daughters of the king and the wives of the princes,” was
the cautious answer, “but don’t look at any one of them closely.”

“I don’t see how a fellow can help it; they are ravishingly beautiful,
don’t you think so, Johnston?”

“Don’t be a fool,” snapped the American, “don’t you know enough to hold
your tongue.”

Tradmos smiled as if amused, and when he had shown them to seats near
the great golden throne, he said:

“Stay where you are till the king sends for you, and then go and kneel
before the throne. Do not rise till he bids you.”

The captives thanked him and the captain turned away. The eyes of all
the royal party now rested on the strangers, and it was hard for them to
appear unconscious of it. A great crowd was slowly filling the room
and an orchestra in a balcony on the left of the dais began to make
delightful music on instruments the strangers had never before seen.
After an entrancing prelude a sound of singing was heard, and far up in
a grand dome, lighted like the one the captives had just admired over
the central court of the palace, they saw a bevy of maidens, robed in
white, moving about in mid-air, apparently unsupported by anything.

“How on earth is that done?” asked Thorndyke.

“I don’t know,” returned Johnston, speaking more freely now that the
captain had gone. “I am not surprised at anything.”

“Their voices are exquisite, and that orchestra--a Boston symphony
concert couldn’t be compared to it.”

“There goes the sunlight again,” cried Johnston, “by Jove, it is blue!”

The transition was sublime. They seemed transported to some other scene.
The great multitude, the elegantly-dressed attendants about the throne,
the courtiers, the beautiful women, all seemed to change in appearance;
on the view through the wide doors leading to the conservatory, and the
great swarming court beyond, the soft blue light fell like a filmy veil
of enchantment.

“Wonderful!” exclaimed the American.

“It is ahead of our clocks, anyway,” jested Thorndyke. “Any child that
can count on its fingers could tell that this is the fifth hour of the
day.”

The music grew louder; there was a harmonious blare of mighty trumpets,
the clang of gongs and cymbals, and then the music softened till it
could scarcely be heard. There was commotion about the throne.

The king was coming. Every person on the dais stood motionless,
expectant. A page drew aside the rich curtain from a door on the right,
and an old man, wearing a robe of scarlet ornamented with jewels and a
crown set with sparkling gems, entered and seated himself on the throne.
The music sank lower; so soft did it become that the tinkling bells of
the great fountain outside could be heard throughout the room.

The king bowed to the throng on the dais and spoke a few words to a
courtier who advanced as he sat down. The courtier must have spoken of
them, for the king at once looked down at Johnston and Thorn-dyke and
nodded his head. The courtier spoke to a page, and the youth left the
dais and came toward the captives.

“We are in for it,” cautioned Thorndyke, “now don’t be afraid of your
shadow; we’ll come out all right.”

“The king has sent for you,” said the page, the next instant. “Go to the
throne.”

They were the cynosure of the entire room as they went up the carpeted
steps of the dais and knelt before the king.



Chapter VI.

“Rise!” commanded the king, in a deep, well-modulated voice, and when
they had arisen he inspected them critically, his eyes lingering on
Thorndyke.

“You look as if you take life easily; you have a jovial countenance,” he
said cordially.

Thorndyke returned his smile and at once felt at ease.

“There is no use in taking it any other way,” he said; “it doesn’t
amount to much at best.”

“You are wrong,” returned the king, playing with the jewels on his robe,
“that is because you have been reared as you have--in your unsystematic
world. Here we make life a serious study. It is our object to assist
nature in all things. The efforts of your people amount to nothing
because they are not carried far enough. Your scientists are dreaming
idiots. They are continually groping after the ideal and doing nothing
with the positive. It was for us to carry out everything to perfection.
Show me where we can make a single improvement and you shall become a
prince.”

“If my life depended on that, my head would be off this instant,” was
the quick-witted reply of the Englishman.

This so pleased the king that he laughed till he shook. “Well said,” he
smiled; “so you like our country?”

“Absolutely charmed; my friend (Thorndyke was determined to bring his
companion into favor, if possible) and I have been in raptures ever
since we rose this morning.”

A flush of pleasure crossed the face of the king. “You have not seen
half of our wonders yet. I confess that I am pleased with you, sir. The
majority of people who are brought here are so frightened that they grow
morbid and desirous to return to their own countries as soon as they
learn that such a thing is out of the question.”

Thorndyke’s stout heart suffered a sudden pang at the words, but he
did not change countenance in the slightest, for the king was closely
watching the effect of his announcement.

“Of course,” went on the ruler, gratified by the indifference of the
Englishman, “of course, it could not be done. No one, outside of a few
of the royal family and our trusted agents, has ever left us.”

“I can’t see how any one could be so unappreciative as to want to go,”
 answered Thorndyke, with a coolness that surprised even Johnston.
“I have travelled in all countries under the sun--the sun I was born
under--and got so bored with them that my friend and myself took to
ballooning for diversion; but here, there is a delightful surprise at
every turn.”

“I was told you were aeronauts,” returned the ruler, deigning to cast
a glance at the silent Johnston, who stood with eyes downcast, “and I
confess that it interested me in you.”

At that juncture a most beautiful girl glided through the curtains at
the back of the throne and came impulsively toward the king. Her brown
hair fell in rich masses on her bare shoulders; her eyes were large,
deep and brown, and her skin was exquisitely fine in texture and color;
her dress was artistic and well suited to her lithe figure. She held an
instrument resembling a lute in her hands, and stopped suddenly when she
noticed that the king was engaged.

“It is my daughter, the Princess Bernardino,” explained the king, as
he heard her light step and turned toward her; “she shall sing for you,
and, yes (nodding to her) you shall dance also.”

As she took her position on a great rug in front of the throne, she kept
her eyes on the handsome Englishman as if fascinated by his appearance.
Thorndyke’s heart beat quickly; the blood mantled his face and he stood
entranced as she touched the resonant strings with her white fingers and
began to play and sing. An innocent, artless smile parted her lips from
her matchless teeth, and her face glowed with inspiration. Far above in
the nooks and crannies of the vast dome, with its divergent corridors
and arcades, the faint echoes of her voice seemed to reply to her during
the pauses in her song. Then she ceased singing and to the far-away and
yet distinct accompaniment of some stringed instrument in the orchestra,
she began to dance. Holding her instrument in a graceful fashion against
her shoulder as one holds a violin, and with her flowing white gown
caught in the other hand, she bowed and smiled and instantly seemed
transformed. From the statuesque and dreamy singer she became a marvel
of graceful motion. To and fro she swept from end to end of the great
rug, her tiny feet and slim ankles tripping so lightly that she seemed
to move without support through the air.

Thorndyke stood as if spell-bound, for, at every turn, as if seeking his
approval, she glanced at him inquiringly. When she finished she stood
for a moment in the centre of the rug panting, her beautiful bosom,
beneath its filmy covering of lace, gently rising and falling. Then,
asking her father’s consent with a mute glance, she ran forward
impulsively, and, kneeling at Thorndyke’s feet, she took his hand and
pressed it to her lips. And rising, suffused with blushes, she tripped
from the dais and disappeared behind the curtain.

The king frowned as he looked after her. “It is a mark of preference,”
 he said coldly. “It is one of our customs for a dancer or singer to
favor some one of her spectators in that way. My daughter evidently
mistook you for an ambassador from one of my provinces, but it does not
matter.”

“She is wonderfully beautiful,” replied the tactful Englishman,
pretending not to be flattered by the notice of the princess.

“Do you think our people fine looking as a rule?” asked the king, to
change the subject.

“Decidedly; I never imagined such a race existed.”

Again the king was pleased. “That is one of the objects of our system.
Generation after generation we improve mentally and physically. We are
the only people who have ever attempted to thoroughly study the science
of living. Your medical men may be numbered by the million; your
remedies for your ills change daily; what you say is good for the health
to-day is to-morrow believed to be poison; to-day you try to make blood
to give strength, and half a century ago you believed in taking it from
the weakest of your patients. With all this fuss over health, you will
think nothing of allowing the son of a man who died with a loathsome
hereditary disease to marry a woman whose family has never had a taint
of blood. Here no such thing is thought of. To begin with, no person who
is not thoroughly sound can remain with us. Every heart-beat is heard by
our medical men and every vein is transparent. You see evidences of
the benefit of our system in the men and women around you. All our
conveniences, the excellence of our products, our great inventions are
the result.”

“I have been wondering about the size of your country,” ventured
Thorndyke cautiously.

The king smiled. “That will be one of the things for you to discover
later,” he returned. “But this, the City of Moron, is the capital; our
provinces, farming lands, smaller cities, towns and hamlets lie around
us. Come with me and I will show you something.”

He waved his hand and dismissed a number of courtiers who were waiting
to be called, and rose from the throne and led the two captives into a
large apartment adjoining the throne-room. Here they found six men in
blue uniforms looking into a large circular mirror on a table. They all
bowed and moved aside as the king approached.

“These men are the municipal police,” explained the king, resting his
hand on the gold frame of the glass; “they are watching the city.” And
when the strangers drew nearer they were surprised to see reflected,
in the deeply concave glass, the entire city in miniature; its streets,
parks, public buildings, and moving populace. And what seemed to be the
most remarkable feature of the invention was, that the instant the eye
rested on any particular portion of the whole that part was at once
magnified so that every detail of it was clearly observable.

“This is an improvement on your police system,” continued the king. “No
sooner does anything go wrong than a red signal is given on the spot of
the trouble and the attention of these officers is immediately called
to it. A flying machine is sent out and the offender is brought to the
police station; but trouble of any nature rarely occurs, and the duties
of our police are merely nominal; my people live in thorough harmony.
Now, come with me and I will give you an idea of the surrounding
country.”

As the king spoke he led them into a circular room, the roof of which
was of white glass, and the walls were lined with large mirrors.

“This is our general observatory from which every part of Alpha can be
seen,” said the king with a touch of pride in his tone. “Look at the
mirror in front of you.”

They did as he requested, and at first saw nothing; but, as he went to a
stone table in the centre of the room and touched an electric button,
a grand view of green fields, forests, streams, lakes and farm-houses
flashed upon the mirror. The king laughed at their surprise and touched
another button. As he did so the scene shifted gradually; the landscapes
ran by like a panorama. A pretty village came into sight, and passed;
then a larger town and still a larger; then fields, hills and valleys
and forests of giant trees.

“It is that way all over my kingdom,” said the king; “in an hour I can
inspect it all.”

“But how is it done?” asked Thorndyke, forgetting himself in wonder.

“Through a telescopic invention, aided by electricity and the clearness
of our atmosphere,” replied the king. “It would take too long to go
into the details. The views, however, are reflected to this point
from various observatories throughout the land. Such a system would be
impossible in any other country on account of the clouds and atmospheric
changes; but here we control everything.”

“I noticed,” returned the Englishman, “that green fields lie beside
ripening ones and those in which the grain is being harvested.”

“We have no change of seasons,” answered the king. “Change of seasons
may be according to nature, but it is in the province of man’s intellect
to improve on nature. But I must leave you now; I shall summon you again
when I have the leisure to continue our conversation.”

“Well, what do you think of it?” asked Johnston, as the king disappeared
behind a curtain in the direction of the audience chamber.

“I give it up; I only know that the old fellow’s daughter, the Princess
Bernardino is the most beautiful, the most bewitching creature that ever
breathed. Did you notice her eyes and form? Great heavens! was there
ever such a vision of human loveliness? Her grace, her voice, her
glances drove me wild with delight.”

“You are dead gone,” grumbled the American despondently; “we’ll never
get away from here in the world. I can see that.”

“I gave up all hope in that direction some time ago,” said Thorndyke;
“and why should we care? We were awfully bored with life before we came;
for my part I’d as soon end mine up here as anywhere else. Besides,
didn’t his majesty say that they live longer under his system than we
do?”

“I don’t take stock in all he says,” growled the American; “he talks
like a Chicago real estate agent who wants to sell a lot. Why doesn’t he
chop off our heads and be done with it?”

Thorndyke burst into a jovial laugh. “You are coming round all right;
that is the first joke you have got off since we came here; his royal
Nibs may need a court-jester and give you a job.”

“There goes that blamed sunlight again,” exclaimed Johnston, grasping
his companion’s arm, “don’t you see it changing?”

“Yes, and this time it is white, like old Sol’s natural smile; but isn’t
it clear? It seems to me that I could see to the end of the earth in
that light. I want to know how he does it.”

“How who does it?”

“Why, the king, of course, it is his work--some sort of invention; but
we must keep civil tongues in our heads when we are dealing with a man
who can color the very light of the sun.”

They were walking back toward the great rotunda, and, as they entered
the conservatory, the crowds of men and women stared at them curiously.
They had paused to inspect the statue of a massive stone dragon when a
young officer in glittering uniform approached and addressed Johnston.

“Follow me,” he said simply; “it is the king’s command.”

The American started and looked at Thorndyke apprehensively.

“Go,” said the latter; “don’t hesitate an instant.”

Poor Johnston had turned white. He held out his hand to Thorndyke,
“Shake,” he said in a whisper, not intended for the ears of the officer,
“I don’t believe that we shall meet again. I felt that we were to be
parted ever since that medical examination.”

Thorndyke’s face had altered; an angry flush came in his face and his
eyes flashed, but with an effort he controlled himself.

“Tut, tut, don’t be silly. I shall wait for you round here; if there is
any foul play I shall make some one suffer for it. You can depend on me
to the end; we are hand in hand in this adventure, old man.”



Chapter VII.

Johnston followed his guide to a flying machine outside. He hesitated
an instant, as the officer was holding the door open, and looked back
toward the conservatory; but he could not see Thorndyke.

“Where are you taking me?” he asked desperately. But the officer did not
seem to hear the question. He was motioning to a tall man of athletic
build who wore a dark blue uniform and who came hastily forward and
pushed the American into the machine. Through the open door Johnston saw
Thorndyke’s anxious face as the Englishman emerged from the conservatory
and strode toward them. The two officers entered and closed the glass
door.

Then the machine rose and Johnston’s spirits sank as they shot upward
and floated easily over the humming crowd into the free white light
above the smokeless city. The poor captive leaned on the window-sill
and looked out. There was no breeze, and no current of air except that
caused by their rapid passage through the atmosphere.

Up, up, they went, till the city seemed a blur of mingled white and
gray, and then the color below changed to a vague blue as they flew over
the fields of the open country.

The first officer took a glass and a decanter from a receptacle under a
seat, and, pouring a little red fluid into the glass, offered it to the
American.

“Drink it,” he said, “it will put you to sleep for a time.”

“I don’t want to be drugged.”

“The journey will try your nerves. It is harmless.”

“I don’t want it; if I take it, you will have to pour it down my
throat.”

The officer smiled as he put the glass and decanter away. Faster and
faster flew the machine. They had to put the window down, for the
current of air had become too strong and cool to be pleasant. The color
of the sunlight changed to green, and then at noon, from the zenith,
a glorious red light shimmered down and veiled the earth with such a
beautiful translucent haze that the poor American for a moment almost
forgot his trouble.

The afternoon came on. The sunlight became successively green, white,
blue, lavender, rose and gray. The sun was no longer in sight and the
gray in the west was darkening into purple, the last hour of the day.
Night was at hand. Johnston’s limbs were growing stiff from inaction,
and he had a strong desire to speak or to hear one of the officers say
something, but they were dozing in their respective corners. The moon
had risen and hung far out in space overhead, but they seemed to be
leaving it behind. Later he felt sure of this, for its light
gradually became dimmer and dimmer till at last they were in total
darkness--darkness pierced only by the powerful search-light which threw
its dazzling, trumpet-shaped rays far ahead. But, search as he would
in the direction they were going, the unfortunate American could see
nothing but the ever-receding wall of blackness.

Suddenly they began to descend. The officers awoke and stretched
themselves and yawned. One of them opened the window and Johnston heard
a far-off, roaring sound like that of a multitude of skaters on a vast
sheet of ice.

Down, down, they dropped. Johnston’s heart was in his mouth.

The machine suddenly slackened in its speed and then hung poised in
mid-air. The rays of the search-light were directed downward and slowly
shifted from point to point. Looking down, the American caught glimpses
of rugged rocks, sharp cliffs and yawning chasms.

“How is it?” asked the first officer, through a speaking-tube, of the
driver.

“A good landing!” was the reply.

“Well, go down.” And a moment later the machine settled on the uneven
ground.

The same officer opened the door, and gently pushed Johnston out.
Johnston expected them to follow him, but the door of the machine closed
behind him.

“Stand out of the way,” cried out the officer through the window; “you
may get struck as we rise.”

Involuntarily Johnston obeyed. There was a sound of escaping air from
beneath the machine, a fierce commotion in the atmosphere which sucked
him toward the machine, and then the dazzling search-light blinded him,
as the air-ship bounded upward and sailed back over the course it had
come.

Johnston stood paralyzed with fear. “My God, this is awful!” he
exclaimed in terror, and his knees gave way beneath him and he sank to
the rock. “They have left me here to starve in this hellish darkness!”
 He remained there for a moment, his face covered with his hands, then
he sprang up desperately, and started to grope through the darkness,
he knew not whither. He stumbled at almost every step, and ran against
boulders which bruised his hands and face, and went on till his strength
was gone. Then he paused and looked back toward the direction from which
he had come. It seemed to him that he could see the straight line of
mighty black wall above which there was a faint appearance of light. A
lump rose in the throat of the poor fellow, and tears sprang into his
eyes.

But what was that? Surely it was a sound. It could not have been the
wind, for the air was perfectly still. The sound was repeated. It was
like the moaning of a human voice far away in the dark. Could it be some
one in distress, some poor unfortunate, banished being, like himself?
Again he heard the sound, and this time, it was like the voice of some
one talking.

“Hello!” shouted the American, and a cold shudder went over him at the
sound of his own husky voice. There was a dead silence, then, like an
echo of his own cry, faintly came the word, “Hello!”

Filled with superstitious fear, the American cautiously groped toward
the sound. “Hello, there, who are you?”

“Help, help!” said the voice, and it was now much nearer.

Johnston plunged forward precipitately. “Where are you?”

“Here,” and a human form loomed up before him.

For a moment neither spoke, then the strange figure said: “I thought
at first that you were some one sent to rescue me, but I see you are
alone--damned like myself.”

“It looks that way,” replied Johnston.

“When did they bring you?”

“Only a moment ago.”

“My God, it is awful! A week ago I did not dream of such a fate as this.
I had enemies. The medical men were bribed to vote against me. Am I not
strong? Am I not muscular? Feel my arms and thighs.”

He held out an arm and Johnston felt of it. The muscles were like stone.

“You are a giant.”

“Ah! you are right; but they reported that there was a taint in my
blood. I was to marry Lallio, the most beautiful creature in our
village--Madryl, you know, the nearest hamlet to the home of the Sun. I
was rich, and the best farmer there. But Lyngale wanted her. She hated
him and spat at him when he spoke against me. He proved by others that
my lungs were weak, and showed them the blood of a slain dog in my
fields that they said had come from my lungs. Ah, they were curs! My
lungs weak! Strike my chest with all your might. Does it not sound like
the king’s thunder? Strike, I say!” and as the enfeebled American struck
his bare breast he cried:--“Harder, harder! Pooh, you are a child, see
this, and this,” and he emphasized his words with thunderous blows on
his resounding chest.

“But it has been so for a century,” he panted; “hundreds have been
unjustly buried alive here. The king thinks it is not murder because
they die of starvation. I have stumbled over the bones of giants here in
the dark lands, and have met dying men that are stronger than the king’s
athletes.”

“What, are there others here?” gasped the American.

The Alphian was silent in astonishment.

“Why, where did you come from?” he asked, after a pause.

“From New York City.”

“I don’t know of it, and yet I thought I knew of all the places inside
the great endless wall.”

Johnston was mystified in his turn. “It is not in your country--your
world, or whatever you call it. It is far away.”

“Ah, under the white sun! In the ‘Ocean Country,’ and the world of
fierce winds and disease. And you are from there. I had heard of it
before they banished me; but two days since I came across a dying man,
away over there. He was huddled against the wall, and had fallen and
killed himself in his efforts to climb back to food and light.

“I saw him die. He told me that he had come from your land when he was a
child. His trouble was the lungs and he had fallen off to a skeleton. He
talked to me of your wide ocean land. Is it, indeed so great? And has it
no walls about it?”

“No, it is surrounded by water.”

“I cannot understand,” and, after a pause, in which Johnston could hear
the great fellow’s heart beating, he continued; “That must be the Heaven
the man spoke about. And beyond the water is it always dark like this,
and do they banish people there as the king has us?”

“No; beyond are other countries. But is there no chance for us to escape
from here?”

The Alphian laughed bitterly. “None. What were you banished for?”

“I hardly know.”

“Hold out your arm. There,” as he grasped Johnston’s arm in a clasp
of iron, “I see; you are undeveloped, unfit--none but the healthy and
strong are allowed to live in Alpha. It is right, of course; but it is
hard to bear. But I must lie down. I am wearied with constant rambling.
I am nervous too. I fell asleep awhile ago and dreamt I heard all my
friends in a great clamoring body calling my name, ‘Branasko!’ and then
I awoke and cried for help.”

As he spoke he sank with a sigh to the ground and rested his head on his
elbows and knees and seemed asleep. The American sat down beside him,
and, for a long time, neither spoke. Branasko broke the silence; he
awoke with a start and eyed his companion in sleepy wonder.

“Ugh, I dreamt again,” he grunted, “are you asleep?”

“No,” was Johnston’s reply. “I am hungry and thirsty and cannot sleep.”

“So am I, but we must wait till it is lighter, then we can go in search
of food. When I was a boy I learned to catch fish in pools with my hands
and it has prolonged my life here. When the light comes again, I shall
show you how I do it.”

“Then the day does break? I thought it was eternally dark here.”

“It does not get very light, because we are behind the sun; but it is
lighter than now, for we get the sun’s reflection, enough at least to
keep us from falling into the chasms.”

Branasko lowered his head to his knees and slept again, but the
American, though wearied, was wakeful. Several hours passed. The Alphian
was sleeping soundly, his breathing was very heavy and he had rolled
down on his side.

Far away in the east the darkness gradually faded into purple, and then
into gray, and slowly hints of pink appeared in the skies. It was dawn.
Johnston touched his companion. The man awoke and looked at him from his
great swollen eyes.

“It is day,” he yawned, rising and stretching himself.

“But the sun is not in sight.”

“No; it shows itself only in the middle of the day, and then but for a
few minutes. We must go now and search for food. I will show you how to
catch the eyeless fish in the black caverns over there.” And he led the
American into the blackness behind them. Every now and then, as they
stumbled along, Johnston would look longingly back toward the faint pink
light that shone above the high black wall. But Branasko hastened on.

Presently they came to the edge of a black chasm and the American was
filled with awe, for, from the seemingly fathomless depths, came a great
roaring sound like that of a mighty wind and the air that came from it
was hot, though pure and free from the odor of gas.

“What is this?” he asked.

“They are everywhere,” answered Branasko, “if it were not for their hot
breathing the Land of the Changing Sun would be cold and damp.”

“Then the sun does not give out heat?”

“No.”

“It is cold?”

“I believe so, I have never thought much about it.”

The American was mystified, but he did not question farther, for
Branasko was carefully lowering himself into the hot gulf.

“Follow me,” he said; “we must cross it to reach the caves. I will guide
you. I have been over this way before.”

“But can we stand the heat?”

“Oh, yes; when we get used to it, it is invigorating. I perspire in
streams, but I feel better afterward. Come on.”

Branasko’s head only was above the ground. “I am standing on a ledge,”
 he said. “Get down beside me. Fear nothing. It is solid; besides, what
does it matter? You can die but once, and it would really be better to
fall down there into the internal fires than to starve slowly.”

Johnston shuddered convulsively as he let himself down beside Branasko.
His foot dislodged a stone. With a crash it fell upon a lower ledge and
bounded off and went whizzing down into the depths. Both men listened.
They heard the stone bounding from ledge to ledge till the sound was
lost in the internal roaring.

“It is mighty deep,” said Johnston.

“Yes, but follow me; we cannot stop here; we must go along this ledge
till we get to the point where the chasm is narrow enough to jump
across. I have done it.”

“The American held to his companion with one hand and the rock with the
other, and they slowly made their way along the narrow ledge, pausing
every now and then to rest. At every step the path grew more perilous
and narrower, and the cliff on their left rose higher and higher, till
the reflected light of the sun had entirely disappeared. At certain
points the hot wind dashed upon them as furiously as the whirling mist
in ‘The Cave of Winds’ at Niagara Falls. Once Johnston’s foot slipped
and he fell, but was drawn back to safety by the strong arm of the
Alphian.

“Be careful; hold to the cliff’s face,” warned Branasko indifferently,
and he moved onward as if nothing unusual had occurred. Presently they
reached a point where a narrow boulder jutted out over the chasm toward
the opposite side, and Branasko cautiously crawled out upon it. When
he had got to its end, Johnston could not see him in the gloom, but his
voice came to him out of the roaring of the chasm.

“I can see the other side, and am going to jump.” An instant later, the
American heard the clatter of the Alphian’s shoes on the rock, and his
grunt of satisfaction. Then Branasko called out: “Come on; crawl out
till you feel the end of the rock, and then you can see me.”

In great trepidation the American slowly crawled out on the narrow rock.
Below him yawned the hot darkness, above hung that black ominous canopy
of nothingness. Slowly he advanced on hands and knees, every moment
feeling the sharp rock growing narrower, till finally he reached the
end. He looked ahead. He could but faintly see the ledge and Branasko’s
tall form silhouetted upon it.

“See, this is where you have to alight,” cried the Alphian. “Jump, I
will catch you!”

“I am afraid I shall topple over when I stand up,” replied the American.
“The rock is narrow and my head is already swimming. I fear I cannot
reach you. It is no use.”

“Tut, tut!” exclaimed Branasko. “Stand up quickly, and jump at once.
Don’t stop to think about it.”

Johnston obeyed. He felt his feet firmly braced on the rock and he
sprang toward the opposite ledge with all his might. Branasko caught
him.

“Good,” he grunted. “There is another place, we must jump again. It
is further on.” Along this ledge they went for some distance, Branasko
leading the way and holding the arm of the American.

“Now here we are, the chasm is a little wider, but the ledge on the
other side is broader.” As he spoke he released Johnston’s arm and
prepared to jump. He filled his lungs two or three times. But he seemed
to hesitate. “Pshaw, watching you back there has made me nervous. I
never cared before. If I should happen to fall, go back to where we met,
it is safer there without a guide than here.”

Without another word Branasko hurled himself forward. Johnston held
his breath in horror, for Branasko’s foot had slipped as he jumped.
The Alphian had struck the opposite ledge, but not with his feet, as
he intended. He clutched it with his hands and hung there for a moment,
struggling to get a foothold in the emptiness beneath him.

“It’s no use, I am falling; I can hold no longer!” And Johnston,--too
terrified to reply,--heard the poor fellow’s hands slipping from the
rock, causing a quantity of loose stones to go rattling down below. With
a low cry Branasko fell. An instant later Johnston heard him strike the
ledge beneath, and heard him cry out in pain. Then all was still except
the echoes of Branasko’s cry, which bounded and rebounded from side to
side of the chasm, and grew fainter and fainter, till it was submerged
in the roaring below. Then there was a rattle of stones, and Branasko’s
voice sounded: “A narrow escape!” he said faintly. “I am on another
ledge”--then after a slight pause, “it is much wider, I don’t know how
wide. Are you listening?”

“Yes, but are you hurt?”

“Not at all. Simply knocked the breath out of me for a moment. There is
a cave behind me, and (for a moment there was silence) I can see a light
ahead in the cave. I think it must be the reflection of the internal
fire. Come down to me and we will explore the cavern, and see where the
light comes from.”

“I can’t get down there!” shouted Johnston, to make himself heard above
a sudden increase in the roaring in the chasm, “there is no way.”

“Wait a moment!” came from the Alphian. “This ledge seems to incline
upward.”

Johnston stood perfectly motionless, afraid to move from the ledge
either to right or to left, and heard Branasko’s footsteps along the
rock beneath. “All right so far,” he called up, and his voice showed
that he had gone to a considerable distance to the left, “the ledge
seems to be still leading gradually upward. I think I can reach you.”

Fifteen minutes passed. The lone American could no longer hear
Branasko’s footsteps. Johnston was becoming uneasy and the hot air
was causing his head to swim. He was thinking of trying to retrace his
footsteps to a place of more security when he heard footsteps, and then
the cheery voice of Branasko nearly opposite him across the chasm:

“Are you there?”

“Yes.”

“It is well; I have discovered a good pathway down to the cave, and a
pool of fish besides. I have saved some for you. I was so hungry I had
to eat. Now, you must jump over to me.”

“I cannot,” declared the American. “I cannot jump so far; besides, you
failed.”

Branasko laughed. “I did not leap in the right direction. It is this
point on which I am now standing that I should have tried to reach.
Come, I will catch you.”

Johnston could not bear to be considered cowardly, so he stepped to the
verge of the chasm and prepared to jump. His head felt more dizzy as he
thought of the fathomless depths beneath, and the rush of hot air up the
side of the cliff took his breath away, but he braced himself and said
calmly: “All right, I am coming.” The next instant he sprang forward.
Branasko caught him into his arms and they both rolled back on the level
stone.

“Good,” cried the Alphian, trying to catch his breath, which Johnston
had knocked out of him by the fall. “You did better than I; you are
lighter.”

“Where shall we go now?” asked Johnston, regaining his feet and feeling
of his legs and arms to see if he had broken any bones.

“Down this winding path to the place where I saw that light. I want to
understand it. But you must first eat this fish. It is delicious. They
are swarming in the pools below.”

“And water?” said Johnston.

“An abundance of it, and as cold as ice.”

As Branasko preceded him down the tortuous path, Johnston ate the raw
fish eagerly. Presently they came to a deep pool of water, and both men
threw themselves down on their stomachs and drank freely. After this
they proceeded slowly for several hundred yards, and finally reached
the entrance to the cave in which Branasko had seen the light. At that
distance it looked like the light of some great conflagration reflected
from the face of a cliff.

They entered the cave and made good progress toward the light, for it
showed them the dangerous fissures, sharp boulders and stalactites. They
had walked along in silence for several minutes when the Alphian
stopped abruptly and turned to his companion. “What is the matter?” asked
Johnston.

“It cannot come from the internal fires,” replied Branasko, “for the
atmosphere grows cooler as we get nearer the light and away from the
chasm.”

Johnston was too much puzzled to formulate a reply, and he simply waited
for the Alphian to continue.

“Let’s go on,” said Branasko; and in his tone and hesitating manner
Johnston detected the first appearance of superstitious fear that he had
seen in the brawny Alphian.



Chapter VIII.

As Thorndyke watched the flying machine that was bearing his friend
away a genuine feeling of pity went over him. Poor Johnston! He had been
haunted all day with the belief that he was to meet with some misfortune
from which Thorndyke was to be spared, and Thorndyke had ridiculed
his fears. When the air-ship had become a mere speck in the sky, the
Englishman turned back into the palace and strolled about in the vast
crowd.

A handsome young man in uniform approached and touched his hat:

“Are you the comrade of the fellow they are just sending away?” he
asked.

“Yes. Where are they taking him?”

“To the ‘Barrens,’ of course; where do you suppose they would take such
a man? He couldn’t pass his examination. You are not a great physical
success yourself, but they say you pleased the king with your tongue.”

“To the Barrens,” repeated Thorndyke, too much concerned over the fate
of his comrade to notice the speaker’s tone of contempt; “what are they,
where are they?”

The Alphian officer changed countenance, as he looked him over with
widening eyes.

“Your accent is strange; are you from the other world?”

“I suppose so,--this is a new one to me at any rate.”

“The world of endless oceans?”

“Yes.”

“And the unchanging sun--forever white and----?”

“Yes; but where the devil is the Barrens?”

“Behind the sun, beyond the great endless wall.”

“Do they intend to put him to death?”

“No, that would be--what do you call it? murder; they will simply leave
him there to die of his own accord. And the king is right. I never saw
such a weakling. He would taint our whole race with his presence.”

Without a word Thorndyke abruptly turned from the officer and hastened
toward the apartment of the king. He would demand the return of poor
Johnston or kill the king if his demand was not granted. In his haste
and perturbation, however, he lost his way and wandered into a part of
the palace he had not seen. At every step he was more and more impressed
with the magnificent proportions of the structure and the grandeur of
everything about it.

Passing hurriedly through a large hall he saw an assemblage of beautiful
women and handsome men dancing to the music of a great orchestra.
Further on--in a great court--a regiment of soldiers were drilling,
their rapid evolutions making no more sound than if they were moving in
mid-air. In another room he saw a great body of men, women and children
in vari-colored suits bathing in a pool of rose-colored, perfumed water.

He was passing on when a woman, closely veiled and simply dressed,
touched his arm.

“Be watchful and follow me,” she said, in a low, guarded tone.

The heart of the Englishman bounded and his blood rushed to his face,
for the speaker was the Princess Bernardino. She did not pause, but
glided on into the shade of a great palm tree, and, behind a row of
thick-growing ferns of great height and thickness, she waited for him.

She lowered her veil as he approached and looked at him from her deep
brown eyes in great concern. He stood spell-bound under the witchery of
her beauty.

“I came to warn you, Prince,” she said, and her soft musical voice set
every nerve in Thorndyke’s body to tingling with delight. “My father
has banished the faithful slave that you love, but you must not show
the anger that you feel, else he will kill you. You must be exceedingly
cautious if you would save him. My father would punish me severely if
he knew that I had sought you in this way. I was obliged to come in
disguise; this dress belongs to my most trusted maid.”

“And you came for my sake?” blurted out the Englishman, much
embarrassed; “I am not worthy of such a high honor.”

She smiled and tears rose in her eyes.

“Oh, Prince, don’t speak to me so! You are far above me. I am weak. I
know nothing. I never cared for other men than the king and my brothers
till I saw you today, but now I would willingly be your slave.”

“I am yours forever, and an humble one,” bowed the courteous Englishman.
“The moment I saw you at the throne of your father my heart went out to
you. You wound it up in your music and trampled it under your dancing
feet. I have been over the whole world, and you are the loveliest
creature in it. It is because I saw you, because you are here, that I do
not want to leave your country. They may do as they will with me if they
only will let me see you now and then.”

The princess was deeply moved. The blood rushed to her face and
beautified it. Her eyes fell beneath his admiring glance. Thorndyke
could not restrain himself. He caught her slender hand and pressed it
passionately to his lips, and she made only a slight effort to prevent
it.

“I am your obedient slave; what shall I do?” he asked.

“Do not try to rescue him now,” she said softly. “I shall come to you
again when we are not watched--you can know me by this dress. There is
no need for great haste, he could live in the Barrens several days;
I shall try to think of some way to save him, though such a thing has
never been done--never.”

Footsteps were heard on the other side of the row of ferns. A man was
passing and others soon followed him. The bathers were leaving the great
pool.

“I must leave you now,” she whispered. “If the king honors you again by
talking of his kingdom, continue to act as you did; your fearlessness
and good humor have pleased him greatly.”

“Could I not persuade him to bring Johnston back?”

“No; that would be impossible; those who are pronounced physically unfit
are obliged to die. It has been a law for a long time; you must not
count on that. I have, however, another plan, but I cannot tell you of
it now, for they may miss me and wonder where I am, and then, too, my
father may be looking for you. He will naturally desire to see you soon
again.”

Bowing, she turned away and passed on toward the apartments of the king,
which the Englishman now recognized in the distance. Thorndyke went
into the bathing-room to watch those remaining in the great pool of
rose-colored water. The sight was beautiful. The waves which lapped
against the shelving shores of white marble were pink and white, and the
deeper water was as red as coral.

The Englishman was at once troubled over the fate of Johnston and elated
over having won Bernardino’s regard. Thoughtfully he strolled away from
the bathers into a great picture-gallery. Here hung on the walls and
stood on pedestals some of the rarest works of art he had ever seen. He
passed through this room and was entering a shady retreat where plants,
flowers and umbrageous trees grew thickly, when he heard a step behind
him and the rustling of a silken skirt against the plants.

It was Bernardino.

“We can be unobserved here,” she said, taking off her thick veil and
arranging her luxuriant hair. “I hasten back. The king thinks, so
my maid tells me, that I am asleep in my chamber. He is busy with an
audience of police from a neighboring town and will not think of us.”

She sat down on a sofa upholstered in leather, and he took a seat beside
her. “I am glad that we can talk alone,” he said, “for I have much to
ask you. First, tell me where we are,--where this strange country is on
the map of the world.”

“It is a long story,” she replied, “and it would greatly incense the
king if he should find out that I had told you, for one of his chief
pleasures is to note the surprise and admiration of new-comers over what
they see here. But if you will promise to gratify his vanity in this
particular I will try to explain it all.”

“I promise, and you can depend on my not getting you into trouble,”
 replied Thorndyke. “I never was so puzzled in my life, with that sullen
sky overhead, the wonderful changing sunlight, and the remarkable
atmosphere. I am both bewildered and entranced. Every moment I see
something new and startling. Where are we?”

“Far beneath the ocean and the surface of the earth. I only know what
the king has let fall in my hearing in his conferences with his men of
science and inventors; but I shall try to make you understand how it all
came about.”

“It was a long time ago, two hundred years back, I suppose, that one of
my ancestors discovered a little isolated island in the Atlantic Ocean.
He was forced in a storm to land there with his ship and crew to make
some repairs in his vessel. In wandering about over the island he
discovered a narrow entrance to a cave, and, with two or three of his
men, he began to explore it. When they had gone for a mile or two down
into the interior of the cavern, which seemed to lead straight down
toward the centre of the earth, they began to find small pieces of gold.
The further they went the more they found, till at last the very cavern
walls seemed lined with it.

“They were at first wildly excited over their sudden good fortune and
were about to load their ship with it and return to Europe at once, but
the better judgment of my ancestor prevailed. He explained that, if the
world were informed of the discovery of such an inexhaustible mine of
gold, that the value of the precious metal would decline till it would
be worth little more than some grosser metal, and that if they would
only keep their secret to themselves they could in time control the
finances of the world. So, acting on this suggestion, they only dug out
a few thousand pounds and took part of it to Europe and part of it to
America and turned it into money.

“Then, to curtail my story, they elected my ancestor as ruler, and, with
ships loaded with every available convenience that inexhaustible wealth
could procure and a colony of carefully chosen men, they returned to the
island.

“After the men and their families had settled in the great roomy mouth
of the cavern my ancestor supplied himself with several strong men and
food and lights, and sought to explore the entire cavern.

“To their astonishment they found that it was practically endless. When
they had gone down about sixty or seventy miles below the sea level they
found themselves on a vast, undulating plain, the soil of which was dark
and rich, with the black roof of the cavern arching overhead like the
bottom of a great inverted bowl. And when they had travelled about ten
days and reached the other side my ancestor calculated that the cave
must be over one hundred miles in diameter and almost circular in shape.
But what elated and surprised them most was the remarkable salubrity
of the atmosphere. In all parts of the cave it was exactly the same
temperature, and they found that they scarcely felt any fatigue from
their journey, and that they had little desire to eat the provisions
with which they were supplied. Indeed, the very air seemed permeated
with a subtle quality that gave them strength and energy of mind and
body.

“Finally, when, after a month had passed, and they returned to their
anxious friends, these people overwhelmed them with exclamations of
surprise over their appearance. And in the light of day the explorers
looked at one another in astonishment, for, in the dim light of the
lanterns they had carried, they had not noticed the great change that
had come over them. They had all become the finest specimens of physical
health that could be imagined. Their bodies had filled out; they were
remarkably strong; their skins shone with healthful color and their eyes
sparkled with intellectual energy, and their minds, even to the humblest
burden-carrier, were astonishingly acute and active.

“My ancestor was a remarkable man, and he had hitherto shown much
inventive ability; but in that month in the cave he had developed
into an intellectual giant. After mature deliberation, he proposed a
prodigious scheme to his followers. He explained that, while they might,
by using the utmost discretion, hold the financial world in their power
by means of their inexhaustible wealth, that the laws and restrictions
of different countries prevented men of vast wealth from really enjoying
more privileges than men of moderate means. He grew eloquent in speaking
of the underground atmosphere, and proposed that they light the great
cavern from end to end and make it an ideal place where they could live
as it suited them.

“I see that you guess the end. My ancestor was a great student of the
sciences and had already thought of putting electricity to practical
use. You are surprised? Yes, it has been applied to our purposes for two
hundred years, while your people have understood its use such a short
time.”

“Great heavens!” exclaimed the Englishman. “I see it all; the sun is an
electric one!”

“Yes.”

“And it runs mechanically over its great course as regularly as
clock-work.”

“More accurately, I assure you, but there probably never was a greater
mathematical problem than they solved in deciding on the size the sun
should be and amount of light necessary to fill up all the recesses of
the great vacancy. It was all very crude at the start; for years a great
electric light was simply suspended in the centre of the cavern’s roof
and the light did not vary in color. A son of the first king suggested
the plan of giving the sun diurnal movement and the changing light. The
moon and stars were a later development. They found, too, that the light
could not be made to reach certain recesses in the cavern where the roof
approached the earth, so they finally built a great wall to keep the
inhabitants within proscribed boundaries, and to prevent them from
understanding the machinery of the heavens.”

“Wonderful!” exclaimed Thorndyke. “But the temperature of the
atmosphere, how does that happen to be so delightful and beneficial?”

“I believe they do not themselves thoroughly comprehend that. The heat
comes from the internal fires, and the fresh air from without in some
mysterious way. At first, in a few places, the heat was too severe, but
the scientific men among the first settlers obviated this difficulty by
closing up the hottest of the fissures and opening others in the cooler
parts of the cavern.”

“And the people, where did they come from?”

“From all parts of the earth. We had agents outside who selected
such men and women that were willing to come, and who filled all the
requirements, mentally and physically.”

“But why do they desire to live here instead of out in the world, when
they have all the wealth that they need to assure every advantage.”

“They dread death, and it is undoubtedly true that life is prolonged
here; our medical men declare that the longevity of every generation is
improved.”

“Is it possible? But tell me about the sun, when it sets, what becomes
of it?”

“It goes back to its place of rising through a great tunnel beneath us.”

Thorndyke sat in deep thought for a moment; then he looked so steadily
and so admiringly into Bernardino’s eyes that she grew red with
confusion. “But you, yourself, are you thoroughly content here?”

“I know nothing else,” she continued. “I have heard little about your
world except that your people are discontented, weak and insane, and
that your changeable weather and your careless laws regarding marriage
and heredity produce perpetual and innumerable diseases; that your
people are not well developed and beautiful; that you war with one
another, and that one tears down what another builds. I have, too,
always been happy, and since you came I am happier still. I don’t know
what it means. I have never been so much interested in any one before.”

“It is love on the part of both of us,” replied the Englishman
impulsively, taking her hand. “I never was content before. I went roving
over the earth trying to end my life at sea or in balloon voyages, but
now I only want to be with you. I have never dreamed that I could be so
happy or that I would meet any one so beautiful as you are.”

Bernardino’s delight showed itself in blushes on her face, and
Thorndyke, unable to restrain himself, put his arm around her and drew
her to his breast and kissed her.

She sprang up quickly and he saw that she was trembling and that all the
color had fled from her face.

“What is the matter?” he asked, in alarm.

At first she did not answer, but only looked at him half-frightened,
and then covered her face with her hands. He drew them from her face and
compelled her to look at him.

“What is the matter?” he repeated, a strange fear at his heart.

“You have broken one of the most sacred laws of our country,” she
faltered, in great embarrassment; “my father would punish me very
severely if he knew of it, and he would banish you; for, to treat me in
that manner, as his daughter, is regarded as an insult to him.”

“I beg your pardon most humbly,” said the contrite Englishman. “It was
all on account of my ignorance of your customs and my impulsiveness. It
shall never happen again, I promise you.”

Her face brightened a little and the color came back slowly. She sat
down again, but not so near Thorndyke, and seemed desirous of changing
the subject.

“And do you love the man my father has transported?” she questioned.

“Yes, he is a good, faithful fellow, and it is hard to die so far away
from friends.”

“We must try to save him, but I cannot now think of a safe plan. The
police are very vigilant.”

“Where was he taken?”

“Into the darkness behind the sun--beyond the wall of which I spoke.”

A flush of shame came into Thorndyke’s face over the remembrance that he
had made no effort to aid poor Johnston, and was sitting listening with
delight to the conversation of Bernardino. He rose suddenly.

“I must be doing something to aid him,” he said. “I cannot sit here
inactive while he is in danger.”

“Be patient,” she advised, looking at him admiringly; “it is near night;
see, it is the gray light of dusk; the sun is out of sight. To-night,
if possible, I shall come to you. Perhaps I shall approach you without
disguise if you are in the throne-room and my father does not object to
my entertaining you, but for the present we must separate. Adieu.”

He bowed low as she turned away, and joined the throng that was passing
along outside. An officer approached him. It was Captain Tradmos, who
bowed and smiled pleasantly.

“I congratulate you,” he said, with suave pleasantness.

“Upon what?” Thorndyke was on his guard at once.

“Upon having pleased the king so thoroughly. No stranger, in my memory,
has ever been treated so courteously. Every other new-comer is put under
surveillance, but you are left unwatched.”

“He is easily pleased,” said the Englishman, “for I have done nothing to
gratify him.”

“I thought he would like you; and I felt that your friend would have to
suffer, but I could not help him.”

“He shall not suffer if I can prevent it.”

“Sh--be cautious. Those words, implying an inclination to treason, if
spoken to any other officer would place you under immediate arrest.
I like you, therefore I want to warn you against such folly. You are
wholly in the king’s power. Another thing I would specially warn you
against----”

“And that is?”

“Not to allow the king to suspect your admiration for the Princess
Bernardino. It would displease the king. She is much taken with you; I
saw it in her eyes when she danced for your entertainment.”

Thorndyke made no reply, but gazed searchingly into the eyes of the
officer. Tradmos laughed.

“You are afraid of me.”

“No, I am not, I trust you wholly; I know that you are honorable; I
never make a mistake along that line.”

Tradmos bowed, pleased by the compliment.

“I shall aid you all I can with my advice, for I know you will not
betray me; but at present I am powerless to give you material aid. Every
subject of this realm is bound to the autocratic will of the king. It is
impossible for any one to get from under his power.”

“Why?”

“The only outlet to the upper world is carefully guarded by men who
would not be bribed.”

“Is there any chance for my friend?”

“None that I can see, but I must walk on; there comes one of the king’s
attendants.”

“The king has asked to speak to you,” announced the attendant to
Thorndyke.

“I will go with you,” was his reply, and he followed the man through the
crowded corridors into the throne-room of the king. Thorndyke forced a
smile as he saw the king smiling at him as he approached the throne.

“What do you think of my palace?” asked the king, after Thorndyke had
knelt before him.

“It is superb,” answered the Englishman, recalling the advice of
Bernardino. “I am dazed by its splendor, its architecture, and its art.
I have seen nothing to equal it on earth.”

The king rose and stood beside him. His manner was both pleasing and
sympathetic. “I am persuaded,” said he, “that you will make a good
subject, and have the interest of Alpha always at heart, but I have
often been mistaken in the character of men and think it best to give
you a timely warning. An attendant will conduct you to a chamber beneath
the palace where it will be your privilege to converse with a man who
once planned to get up a rebellion among my people.”

There had come suddenly a stern harshness into the king’s tone that
roused the fears of Thorndyke. He was about to reply, but the king held
up his hand. “Wait till you have visited the dungeon of Nordeskyne, then
I am sure that you will be convinced that strict obedience in thought
as well as deed is best for an inhabitant of Alpha.” Speaking thus, he
signed to an attendant who came forward and bowed.

“Conduct him to the dungeon of Nordeskyne, and return to me,” ordered
the king.

Thorndyke’s heart was heavy, and he was filled with strange forebodings,
but he simply smiled and bowed, as the attendant led him away. The
attendant opened a door at the back of the throne-room and they were
confronted by darkness. They went along a narrow corridor for some
distance, the darkness thickening at every step. There was no sound
except the sound of the guide’s shoes on the smooth stone pavement.
Presently the man released Thorndyke’s arm, saying:

“It is narrow here, follow close behind, and do not attempt to go back.”

“I shall certainly stick to you,” replied the Englishman drily. They
turned a sharp corner suddenly, and were going in another direction when
Thorndyke felt a soft warm hand steal into his from behind, and knew
intuitively that it was Bernardino. The guide was a few feet in advance
of them and she drew Thorndyke’s head down and whispered into his ear.

“Be brave--by all that you love--for your life, keep your presence of
mind, and----”

“What was that?” asked the guide, turning suddenly and catching the
Englishman’s arm, “I thought I heard whispering.”

“I was saying my prayers, that is all,” and the Englishman pressed the
hand of the princess, who, pressed close against the wall, was gliding
cautiously away.

“Prayers, humph--you’ll need them later, come on!” and he caught the
Englishman’s arm and hastily drew him onward. Thorndyke’s spirits sank
lower. The air of the narrow under-ground corridor was cold and damp,
and he quivered from head to foot.



Chapter IX.

Branasko paused again in his walk towards the mysterious light.

“It cannot be from the internal fires,” said he, “for this light is
white, and the glow of the fires is red.”

“Let’s turn back,” suggested Johnston, “it can do us no good to go down
there; it is only taking us further from the wall.”

“I should like to understand it,” returned the Alphian thoughtfully;
“and, besides, there can be no more danger there than back among the hot
crevices. We have got to perish anyway, and we might as well spice the
remainder of our lives with whatever adventure we can. Who knows what we
may not discover? There are many things about the land of Alpha that the
inhabitants do not understand.”

“I’ll follow you anywhere,” acquiesced Johnston; “you are right.”

They stumbled on over the rocky surface in silence. At times, the roof
of the cavern sank so low that they had to stoop to pass under it, and
again it rose sharply like the roof of a cathedral, and the rays of the
far-away, but ever-increasing light, shone upon glistening stalactites
that hung from the darkness above them like daggers of diamonds set in
ebony.

“It is not so near as I supposed,” said the Alphian wearily. “And the
light seemed to me to be shining on a cliff over which water is pouring
in places. Yes, you can see that it is water by the ripples in the
light.”

“Yes, but where can the light itself be?”

“I cannot yet tell; wait till we get nearer.”

In about an hour they came to a wide chasm on the other side of which
towered a vast cliff of white crystal. It was on this that the trembling
light was playing.

“Not a waterfall after all,” said Branasko; “see, there is the source
of the reflection,” and he pointed to the left through a series of dark
chambers of the cavern to a dazzling light. “Come, let’s go nearer
it.” He moved a few steps forward and then happening to look over his
shoulder he stopped abruptly, and uttered an exclamation of surprise.

“What is it?” And Johnston followed the eyes of the Alphian.

“Our shadows on the crystal cliff,” said Branasko in an awed tone; “only
the light from the changing sun could make them so.”

Johnston shuddered superstitiously at the tone of Branasko’s quivering
voice, and their giant shadows which stood out on the smooth crystal
like silhouettes. So clear-cut were they, that, in his own shadow, the
American could see his breast heaving and in Branasko’s the quivering of
the Alphian’s huge body and limbs.

“If we have happened upon the home of the sun, only the spirit of the
dead kings could tell what will become of us,” said Branasko.

“Puh! you are blindly superstitious,” said Johnston; “what if we do come
upon the sun? Let’s go down there and look into the mystery.”

Branasko fell into the rear and the American stoutly pushed ahead toward
the light which was every moment increasing. As they advanced the cave
got larger until it opened out into a larger plain over which hung
fathomless darkness, and out of the plain a great dazzling globe of
light was slowly rising.

“It is the sun itself,” exclaimed Branasko, and he sank to the earth and
covered his face with his hands. “I have not thought ever to see it out
of the sky.”

The American was deeply thrilled by the grand sight. He sat down by
Branasko and together they watched the vast ball of light emerge from
the black earth and gradually disappear in a great hole in the roof of
the cavern. It left a broad stream of light behind it, and, now that the
sun itself was out of view, the silent spectators could see the great
square hole from which it had risen.

As if by mutual consent, they rose and made their way over the rocks
to the verge of the hole, which seemed several thousand feet square.
At first, owing to the brightness of the sun overhead, they could see
nothing; but, as the great orb gradually disappeared, they began to see
lights and the figures of men moving about below. Later they observed
the polished parts of stupendous machinery--machinery that moved almost
noiselessly.

Johnston caught sight of a great net-work of moving cables reaching
from the machinery up through the hole above and exclaimed
enthusiastically:--“A mechanical sun! electric daylight! What genius!
A world in a great cave! Hundreds of square miles and thousands of well
organized people living under the light of an artificial sun!”

The Alphian looked at him astonished. “Is it not so in your country?” he
asked.

Johnston smiled. “The great sun that lights the outer world is as much
greater than that ball of light as Alpha is greater than a grain of
sand. But this surely is the greatest achievement of man. But while I
now understand how your sun goes over the whole of Alpha, I cannot see
how it returns.”

“Then you have not heard of the great tunnel of the Sun,” replied the
Alphian.

“No,what is it?”

“It runs beneath Alpha and connects the rising and setting points of the
sun. There is a point beneath the king’s palace where, by a staircase,
the king and his officers may go down and inspect the sun as it is on
its way back to the east during the day.”

“Wonderful!”

“And once a year a royal party goes in the sun over its entire course.
It is said that it is sumptuously furnished inside, and not too warm,
the lights being only innumerable small ones on the outside.”

The two men were silent for a moment then Johnston said:

“Perhaps we might be able to get into it unobserved and be thus carried
over to the other side, or reach the palace through the tunnel.”

Branasko started convulsively, and then, as he looked into the earnest
eyes of the American, he said despondently:

“We have got to die, anyway; it may be well for us to think of it; but
on the other side, in the Barrens, there is no more chance for escape
than here. But the adventure would at least give us something to think
about; let’s try it.”

“All right; but how can we get down there where the sun starts to rise?”
 asked the American, peering cautiously over the edge of the hole.

“There must be some way,” answered Branasko. “Ah, see! further to the
left there are some ledges; let’s see what can be done that way.”

“I am with you.”

The rays of the departing sun were almost gone, and the electric lights
down among the machinery seemed afar off like stars reflected in deep
water. With great difficulty the two men lowered themselves from one
sharp ledge to another till they had gone half down to the bottom.

“It is no use,” said Branasko, peering over the lowest ledge. “There
are no more ledges and this one juts out so far that even if there were
smaller ones beneath we could not get to them.”

“That is true,” agreed the American, “but look, is not that a lake
beneath? I think it must be, for the lights are reflected on its
surface.”

“You are right,” answered Branasko; “and I now see a chance for us to
get down safely.”

“How?”

“The workers are too far from the lake to see us; we can drop into the
water and swim ashore.”

“Would they not hear the splashing of our bodies?”

“I think not; but first let’s experiment with a big stone.”

Suiting the action to the word, they secured a stone weighing about
seventy-five pounds and brought it to the ledge. Carefully poising it
in mid-air, they let it go. Down it went, cutting the air with a sharp
whizzing sound. They listened breathlessly, but heard no sound as
the rock struck the water, and the men among the machinery seemed
undisturbed. Only the widening circles of rings on the lake’s surface
indicated where the stone had fallen.

“Good,” ejaculated the Alphian; “are you equal to such a plunge? The
water must be deep, and we won’t be hurt at all if only we can keep our
feet downward and hold our breath long enough. Our clothing will soon
dry down there, for feel the warmth that comes from below.”

The Alphian slowly crawled out on the sharpest projection of the ledge.
“Are you willing to try it?” he asked, over his shoulder.

“Yes.”

“Well, wait till you see me swim ashore, and then follow.”

Johnston shuddered as the strong fellow swung himself over the ledge and
hung downward.

“Adieu,” said Branasko, and he let go. Down he fell, as straight as
an arrow, into the shadows below. For an instant Johnston heard the
fluttering of the fellow’s clothing as he fell through the darkness,
and then there was no sound except the low whirr of the cables and the
monotonous hum of the great wheels beneath. Then the smooth surface
of the lake was broken in a white foaming spot, and, later, he saw
something small and dark slowly swimming shoreward. It was Branasko, and
the men to the right had not heard or seen him.

Johnston saw him reach the shore, then he crawled out to the point
of the projecting rock and tremblingly lowered himself till he
hung downward as Branasko had done. He had just drawn a deep breath
preparatory to letting go his hold, when, chancing to look down, he saw
a long narrow barge slowly emerging from the cliff directly under him.
For an instant he was so much startled that he almost lost his grip
on the rock. He tried to climb back on the ledge, but his strength was
gone. He felt that he could not hold out till the boat had passed. Death
was before him, and a horrible one. The boat seemed to crawl. Everything
was a blur before his eyes. His fingers began to relax, and with a low
cry he fell.



Chapter X.

To Thorndyke the dark corridor seemed endless. The king’s last words had
now a sinister meaning, and Bernardino’s whispered warning filled him
with dread. “Keep your presence of mind,” she urged; was it then, some
frightful mental ordeal he was about to pass through?

Presently they came to a door. Thorndyke heard his guide feeling for
the bolt and key-hole. The rattling of the keys sounded like a ghostly
threat in the empty corridors. The air was as damp as a fog, and the
stones were cold and slimy. After a moment the guard succeeded in
unlocking the door and roughly pushed the Englishman forward. The door
closed with a little puff, and Thorndyke felt about him for the guide;
but he was alone. For a moment there was no sound. With the closing
of the door it seemed to him that he was cut off from every living
creature. In the awful silence he could hear his own heart beating like
a drum.

“Stand where you are!” came in a hissing whisper from the darkness near
by, and then the invisible whisperer moved away, making a weird sound as
he slid his hand along a wall, till it died away in the distance.

A cold thrill ran over him. He was a brave man and feared no living man
or beast, but the superstitious fears of his childhood now came upon him
with redoubled force. For several minutes he did not stir; presently he
put out his hand to the door and his blood ran cold. There was no knob,
latch, or key-hole, and he could feel the soft padding into which the
door closed to keep out sound. Then he remembered the warning of the
princess, and strove with all his might to fight down his apprehensions.
“For your life keep your presence of mind,” he repeated over and over,
but try as he would his terror over-powered him. He laughed out loud,
but in the dreadful silence and darkness his laugh sounded unearthly.

A cold perspiration broke out on him. It seemed as if hours passed
before he again heard the sliding noise on the wall. Some one was coming
to him. The sound grew louder and nearer, till a firm hand was laid on
his arm; it felt as cold as ice through his clothing.

“Come,” a voice whispered, and the Englishman was led forward. Presently
another door opened--a door that closed after them without any sound.
Here the silence was more intensified, the darkness thicker as if
compressed like air.

Hands were placed on the shoulders of Thorndyke and he was gently forced
into a chair. As soon as he was seated two metal clamps grasped like
a vise his arms between the elbows and the shoulders, and two more
fastened round his ankles.

There was a faint puff of air from the door and the prisoner felt
that he was alone. Terror held him in bondage. He tried to think of
Bernardino, but in vain. Did they intend to drive him to madness? He
began to suspect that the king had discovered his natural superstition
and had decided to put it to a test. What he had undergone so far he
felt was but the introduction to greater terrors in store for him.

There was a sigh far away in the darkness--then a groan that seemed to
flit about in space, as if seeking to escape the dark, and then died
away in a low moan of despair. Before him the blackness seemed to hang
like a dark curtain about ten yards in front of him, and in it shone a
tiny speck of light no larger than the head of a pin, and which was so
bright that he could not look at it steadily. It increased to the size
of a pea, and then he discovered that, at times, it would seem miles
away in space and then again to draw quite near to hand. Glancing down,
he noticed that it cast a bright round spot about an inch in diameter on
the floor, and that the spot was slowly revolving in a circle so
small that its motion was hardly observable. Surely the mind of a
superstitious man was never so punished! When Thorndyke looked steadily
at the spot, the black floor seemed to recede, and the spot to sink far
down into the empty darkness below like a solitary star; So realistic
was this that the Englishman could not keep from fancying that this
chair was poised in some way over fathomless space. Presently he noticed
that the spot had ceased its circular movement and was slowly--almost as
slowly as the movement of the hand of a clock--advancing in a straight
line toward him.

No such terror had ever before possessed the stout heart of the
Englishman. As the uncanny spot, ever growing brighter, advanced toward
him, he thought his heart had stopped beating; his brain was in a whirl.
After a long while the spot reached his feet and began to climb up his
legs. With a shudder and a smothered cry, he tried to draw his feet
away, but they were too firmly manacled.

“It is searching for my heart,” thought Thorndyke. “My God, when it
reaches it, I shall die!” As the strange spot, gleaming like a burning
diamond in whose heart leaped a thousand different colored flames, and
which seemed possessed of some strange hellish purpose, crossed his
thighs and began to climb up his body, the brain of the prisoner seemed
on fire. He tried to close his eyes, but, horror of horrors! his eyelids
were paralyzed. It was almost over his heart, and Thorndyke was fainting
through sheer mental exhaustion when it stopped, began to descend
slowly, and, then, with a rapid, wavering motion, it fell to the floor,
flashed about in the darkness, and vanished.

An hour dragged slowly by. What would happen next? The Englishman felt
that his frightful ordeal was not over. To his surprise the darkness
began to lighten till he could see dimly the outlines of the chamber. It
was bare save for the chair he occupied against a wall, and a couch on
the opposite side of the room. The couch held something which looked
like a human body covered with a white cloth. He could see where the
sheet rounded over the head and rose sharply at the feet.

Something told him that it was a corpse and a new terror possessed him.
For several minutes he gazed at the couch in dreadful suspense, then his
heart stopped pulsing as the figure on the couch began to move. Slowly
the sheet fell from the head and the figure sat up stiffly. There was
a faint hum of hidden machinery at the couch, and a flashing blue and
green line running from the couch to the wall betrayed the presence of
an electric wire.

Slowly the figure rose, and with creaking, rattling joints stood erect.
Pale lights shone in the orbits of the eyes and the sound of harsh
automatic breathing came from the mouth and nostrils. Slowly and
haltingly the figure advanced toward Thorndyke. The poor fellow tried
to wrench himself free from the chair, but he could not stir an inch.
On came the figure, its long arms swinging mechanically, and its feet
slurring over the stone pavement.

When within ten feet of the Englishman it stopped, nodded its head three
or four times, and slowly opened its mouth. There was a sharp, whirring
noise, such as comes from a phonograph, and a voice spoke:

“My voice shall sound on earth for a million years after my spirit has
left my body; and I shall wander about my dark dungeon as a warning to
men not to do as I have done.”

The voice ceased, but the whirring sound in the creature’s breast went
on. The figure shambled nearer to Thorndyke and the voice began again:

“I disobeyed the laws of great Alpha and her imperial king and am
to die. Beware of the temptation to search into the royal motives
or attempt to escape. The fate of all the inhabitants of Alpha, the
wonderful Land of the Changing Sun, is in the hands of its ruler.
Beware! My death-torture is to be lingering and horrible. I sink into
deepest dejection. I was eager to return to my native land and tried
to escape. Behold my punishment! Even my bones and flesh will not be
allowed to rest or decay. Beware, the king is just and good, but he will
be obeyed!”

Slowly the figure retreated toward the couch and lay down on it. The
whirring sound ceased, the light along the wire went out, and the
darkness thickened till the couch and the outlines of the chamber were
obscured. Then Thorndyke’s chair was lifted, as if by unseen hands, and
he was borne backward. In a moment he felt the cool, damp air of the
corridor, and some one raised him to his feet and led him back to the
throne-room.

In the bright light which burst on him as the door opened, the beautiful
women and handsome men moving about the throne were to him like a
glimpse of Paradise. The attendant left him at the door and he walked
in, so dazed and weak that he hardly knew what to do. No one seemed to
notice him and the king was engaged in an animated conversation with
several ladies who were sitting at his feet.

In a bevy of women Thorndyke noticed Bernardino. She gave him a quick,
sympathetic glance of recognition and then looked down discreetly.
Presently she left the others and moved on till she had disappeared
behind a great carved wine-cistern which stood on the backs of four
crouching golden leopards in a retired part of the room. Something in
her sudden movement made the Englishman think she wanted to speak to
him, and he went to her. He was not mistaken, for she smiled as he
approached.

“I am glad,” she whispered, touching his arm impulsively, and then
quickly removing her hand as if afraid of detection.

“Glad of what?” he asked.

“Glad that you stood that--that torture so well; several men have died
in that chair and some went mad.”

“I remembered your advice; that saved me.”

“I have a plan for us to try to rescue your friend.”

“Ah, I had forgotten him! what is it?”

“Captain Tradmos likes you and has consented to aid us. We shall need
an air-ship and he has one at his disposal which is used only for
governmental purposes.”

“What do you want with the air-ship?”

“To go beyond and over the great wall.”

“But can we get away from here without being seen?”

“Under ordinary circumstances, neither by day nor night, but tomorrow
the king has planned to let his people witness a ‘War of the Elements.’”

“A War of the Elements?”

“Yes, the grandest fete of Alpha. There will be a frightful storm in the
sky; no light for hours; the thunder will be musical and the lightning
will seem to set the world on fire. That will be our chance. When it
is darkest we shall try to get away unseen. We may fail. Such a daring
thing has never been attempted by any one. If we are detected we shall
suffer death as the penalty, the king could never pardon such a bold
violation of law.”



Chapter XI.

Johnston clung tenaciously to the rock. He tried to look down to see if
the barge had passed beneath him, but the intense strain on his arm now
drew his head back, so that he could not do so. Once more he made an
effort to regain his position on the rock, but he was not able to raise
himself an inch.

He felt certain that the fall would kill him, and he groaned in agony.
His fingers were benumbed and beginning to slip. Then he fell. The air
whizzed in his ears. He tried to keep his feet downward, but it was
no use. He was whirled heels over head many times, and his senses were
leaving him when he was restored by a plunge into the cold water.

Down he sank. It seemed to him that he never would lose his momentum
and that he would strangle before he could rise to the surface. Finally,
however, he came up more dead than alive. He had narrowly missed the
flat-boat, for he saw it receding from him only a few yards away. On the
shore stood Branasko motioning to him; and, slowly, for his strength was
almost gone, Johnston swam toward him.

The latter waded out into the shallow water and drew him ashore.

“You had a narrow escape,” he said, with a dry laugh. “I saw the boat
come from under the cliff just as you hung down from the ledge. At first
I hoped that you would get back on the rock, but when I saw you try and
do it and fail I thought that you were lost.”

The American could not speak for exhaustion; but, as he looked at the
departing craft with concern, Branasko laughed again: “Oh, you thought
it had a crew; so did I at first, but it has no one aboard. It is drawn
by a cable, and seems to be laden with coal.”

“Did they notice our fall up there?” panted Johnston, nodding toward the
lights in the distance.

“No, they are farther away than I thought.”

“Well, what ought we to do?” “Hide here among the rocks till our
clothing dries and then look about us. We have nearly twenty-four hours
to wait for the sun to return through the tunnel.”

“Where is the tunnel?”

“Over on the other side of that black hill. There, you can see the mouth
of the tunnel through which the sun comes.”

“We need sleep,” said the Alphian, when their clothing was dry, “and it
may be a long time before we get a chance to get it. Let us lie down in
the shadow of that rock and rest.”

Johnston consented, and, lying down together, they soon dropped asleep.
They slept soundly.

Johnston was the first to awake. He felt so refreshed that he knew he
must have been unconscious several hours. He touched Branasko and the
latter sat up and rubbed his eyes and looked about him bewildered.

“I had a horrible dream,” he said shuddering. “I thought that we were in
the sun and over the capital city when it fell down. I thought the
fall was awful, and that all Alpha was aflame. Then the fires went out.
Everything was black, and the whole world rang with cries of terrified
people. Ugh! I don’t want to dream so again; I’d rather not sleep at
all. But hush! what is that?”

Far away, as if in the centre of the earth, they heard a low monotonous
rumbling. They listened breathlessly. Every moment the sound increased.
They could feel the ground trembling as if shaken by an earthquake.

“It is the coming sun,” said Branasko. “We must get nearer the tunnel
and see what can be done. It would be useless to try to go back now.”

Stealing along in the shadow of the cliffs to keep from being seen by
the workmen on the plateau above, they climbed over a rocky incline
and saw in the side of a towering cliff, a great black hole. It was the
mouth of the tunnel. Into it ran eight wide tracks of railway and six
mammoth cables each twenty or thirty feet in diameter.

“The sun cannot be far away now,” remarked the Alphian.

“Is it not lighted?”

“I presume not; I think it comes through in darkness. The light is saved
for its passage over Alpha.”

“Would it not be as safe for us to attempt to walk through the tunnel to
the palace of the king?”

“Never; it would be over fifty miles in utter darkness. There may be a
thousand trestles and bridges over frightful chasms: for the most part,
I have heard the tunnel is a natural channel or a succession of caverns
united by tunnels. The other is the safer way, though it certainly is
risky enough.”

Louder and nearer grew the rumbling noise, and a faint light began to
shine from the tunnel and flash on the cliff opposite.

“It is the sun’s headlight,” explained Branasko.

Johnston was thrilled to the centre of his being as he saw the light
playing over the polished tracks and cables and illuminating the walls
of the great tunnel.

Suddenly there was a deep, mellow-toned stroke of a bell in the sun,
and, as the two men shrank involuntarily into the deeper shade of the
cliff, the great globe, a stupendous ball of crystal, five hundred feet
in height, slowly emerged from the mouth of the tunnel and came to a
stop under the opening in the rock which led to the space above.

“What had we better do now?” said Johnston.

“Wait,” cautioned Branasko, and he drew the American to a great boulder
nearer the sun, from behind which they could, without being seen, watch
the action of the crowd of workmen that was hurriedly approaching. They
placed ladders of steel against the sides of the sun and swarmed over it
like bees.

“They are cleaning the glass and adjusting the lights,” said the
Alphian; “wait till they go round to the other side. Don’t you see that
square opening near the ground?”

The American nodded.

“It is the door,” said Branasko, “and we must try to enter it while they
are on the other side. Let us slip nearer; there is another rock ahead
that we can hide behind.” Suiting the action to the word, Branasko led
the way, stooping near to the ground until both were safely ensconced
behind the boulder in question. They were now so near that they could
hear the electricians rubbing the glass.

One who seemed to be superintending the work opened the door and went
into the sun and lighted a bright light. From where they were crouched
Johnston and Branasko caught a view of a little hall, a flight of
stairs, and some pictures on the walls.

Presently the man extinguished the light and came out.

“They are removing their ladders from this side,” said Branasko in a
whisper. “Be ready; we must act quickly and without a particle of sound.
Run straight for that door and climb up the steps immediately.”

The men had all gone round to the other side, and no one was in sight.

“Quick! Follow me,” and bending low to the earth the Alphian darted
across the intervening space and into the doorway. Johnston was quite
as successful. As he entered the door he saw Branasko crawling up the
carpeted stairs ahead of him, and, on his all-fours, he followed. The
first landing was large, and there in the wall they found a closet. It
would have been dark but for a dim light that streamed down from above.
Branasko opened the closet door. “We must hide here for the present,” he
whispered.

They had barely got seated on the floor and closed the door when a
bright light broke round them and they heard somebody ascending the
stairs. The person passed by and went on further up. The two adventurers
dared not exchange a word. They could hear the footsteps above and the
sound of the electricians outside as they polished the lights and moved
their ladders from place to place.

“If he should stay, what could we do?” asked Johnston, after a long
pause, and when the footsteps sounded farther away.

“There are two of us and one of him,” grimly replied the brawny Alphian.

Johnston shuddered. “Let’s not commit murder in any emergency,” he said.

“It would not be murder; every man has a right to save his own life.”

Nothing more was said just then, for the footsteps were growing nearer.
The man was descending. He crossed the landing they were on and went
down the last flight of stairs and out of the door.

Branasko rubbed his rough hands together. “We are going alone,” he said
with satisfaction.

There was a sound of sliding ladders on the walls outside. The workmen
had finished their task. A moment later a great bell overhead rang
mellowly; the colossal sphere trembled and rocked and then rose and
swung easily forward like the car of a balloon.

“We are rising,” said the Alphian, in a tone of superstitious awe.
Johnston said nothing. There was a cool, sinking sensation in his
stomach and his head was swimming. Branasko, however, was in possession
of all his faculties.

“We shall soon be through the shaft we first discovered and throw our
light over Alpha.” As he spoke the space about them broke into blinding
brightness and for a few moments they could only open their eyes for
an instant at a time. After a while Branasko opened the closet door and
they went up the stairs.

The first apartment they entered was most luxuriously furnished. Sofas,
couches and reclining-chairs were scattered here and there over the
elegant carpet, and statues of gold and marble stood in alcoves and
niches and strange stereopticon lanterns, hanging from the ceiling threw
ever-changing and life-like pictures on the walls. The light streamed in
from without through small circular windows. After they had walked about
the room for some minutes, the Alphian pointed to a half-open door and a
staircase at one side of the room.

“I think it leads to some sort of observatory on top,” he said. “I have
heard that when the royal family makes this voyage they are fond of
looking out from it. Suppose we see.” Johnston acquiesced, and Branasko
opened the door. From the increased brightness that came in they were
assured that the stairs led outward.

Ascending many flights of stairs and traversing a narrow winding gallery
which seemed to be gradually sloping upward, they finally reached the
outside, and found themselves on a platform about forty feet square
surrounded by iron balustrades. Above hung impenetrable blackness, below
curved a majestic sphere of white light.



Chapter XII.

The sunlight was fading into gray when the princess turned to leave
Thorndyke. Night was drawing near.

“Have they assigned you a chamber yet?” she paused to ask.

“No.”

“Then they have overlooked it; I shall remind the king.”

Her beautiful, lithe form was clearly outlined against the red glow of
the massive swinging lamp as she moved gracefully away, and Thorndyke’s
heart bounded with admiration and hope as he thought of her growing
regard for him. He resumed his seat among the flowers, listening, as if
in a delightful dream, to the seductive music from bands in different
parts of the palace and the never-ceasing sound in the air which seemed
to him to be the concentrated echo of all the sounds in the strange
country rebounding from the vast cavern roof.

It grew darker. The gray outside had changed to purple. In the palace
the brilliant electric lights in prismatic globes refused to allow the
day to die. He was thinking of returning to the throne-room when a page
in silken attire approached from the direction of the king’s quarters.

“To your chambers, master,” he announced, bowing respectfully.

Thorndyke arose and followed him to an elevator near by. They ascended
to the highest balcony of the great rotunda. Here they alighted and
turned to the right, the page leading the way, a key in his hand.
Presently the page stopped at a door and unlocked it and preceded
the Englishman into the room. As they entered an electric light in a
chandelier flashed up automatically.

It was a sumptuous apartment, and adjoining it were several connecting
rooms all elegantly furnished. The page crossed the room and opened a
door to a little stairway.

“It leads to the roof,” he said. “The princess told me to call your
attention to it, that you might go out and view the starlight.”

When the page had retired, Thorndyke, feeling lonely, ascended the
stairs to the roof. It was perfectly flat save for the great dome which
stood in the centre and the numerous pinnacles and cupolas on every
hand, and was very spacious. The Englishman’s loneliness increased, for
no matter in what direction he looked, there was not a living soul in
sight. Far in front of him he saw a stone parapet. He went to this and
looked down on the city. The electric lights were vari-colored, and
arranged so that when seen from a distance or from a great height they
assumed artistic designs that were beautiful to behold.

The regular streets and rows of buildings stretched away till the light
in the farthest distance seemed an ocean of blending colors. Overhead
the vault was black, and only here and there shone a star; but as he
looked upward they began to flash into being, and so rapidly that the
sky seemed a vast battlefield of electricity.

“Wonderful! Wonderful!” he ejaculated enthusiastically, when the black
dome was filled with twinkling stars. He leaned for a long time against
the parapet, listening to the music from the streets below, and watching
the flying-machines with their vari-colored lights rise from the little
parks at the intersection of the streets and dart away over the roofs
like big fireflies. Then he began to feel sleepy, and, going back to his
chambers, he retired.

When he awoke the next morning, the rosy glow of the sun was shining
in at his windows. On rising he was surprised to find a delectable
breakfast spread on a table in his sitting-room.

“Treating me like a lord, any way,” he said drily. “I can’t say I
dislike the thing as a whole.” When he had satisfied his sharp hunger he
went out into a corridor and seeing an elevator he entered it and went
down to the throne-room. The king was just leaving his throne, but
seeing Thorndyke he turned to him with a smile.

“How did you sleep?” he asked.

“Well, indeed,” replied Thorndyke, with a low bow.

“I cannot talk to you now. I intended to, but I have promised my people
a ‘War of the Elements’ to-day and am busy. You will enjoy it, I trust.”

“I am sure of it, your Majesty.”

“Well, be about the palace, for it is a good point from which to view
the display.”

With these words he turned away and the Englishman, as if drawn there by
the memory of his last conversation with Bernardino, sought the retreat
where he had bidden her good-night. He sat down on the seat they had
occupied, and gave himself over to delightful reveries about her beauty
and loveliness of nature. Looking up suddenly he saw a pair of white
hands part the palm leaves in front of him and the subject of his
thoughts emerged into view.

She wore a regal gown and beautiful silken head-dress set with fine
gems, and gave him a warm glance of friendly greeting.

“I half hoped to find you here,” she said, blushing modestly under his
ardent gaze; “that is, I knew you would not know where to go----” She
paused, her face suffused with blushes.

“I did not hope to find you here,” he said, coming to her aid gallantly,
“but it was a delight to sit here where I last saw you.”

She blushed even deeper, and a pleased look flashed into her eyes. “It
was important that I should see you this morning,” she continued, with a
womanly desire to disguise her own feeling. “I wanted to tell you where
to meet me when the storm begins.”

“Where?” he asked.

“On the roof of the palace, near the stairs leading down to your
chambers. At first it will be very dark, and it is then that we must get
out of sight of the palace. No other flying-machines will be in the
air, and Captain Tradmos thinks, if we are very careful, we can get away
safely before the display of lightning.”

“If we find my friend what can we do with him?”

She hesitated a moment, a look of perplexity on her face, then she said:
“We can bring him back and keep him hidden in your chambers till some
better arrangement can be made. We shall think of some expedient before
long, but at present he must be saved from starvation.”

Thorndyke attempted to draw her to a seat beside him, but she held
back. “No,” she said resolutely, “it would never do for us to be seen
together. If my father should suspect anything now, all hope would be
lost.”

Thorndyke reluctantly released her hand.

“You are right, I beg your pardon,” he said humbly. “I shall meet you
promptly. Of course I want to save poor Johnston, but the delight of
being with you again, even for a moment, so intoxicates me that I forget
even my duty to him.”

After she left him he wandered out in the streets along the busy
thoroughfares, and into the beautiful parks, the flowers and foliage
changing color as each new hour dawned. The fragrance of the flowers
delighted his sense of smell, and the luscious fruits hung from vine and
tree in great abundance.

He was impatient for the time to arrive at which he was to meet the
princess. After awhile he noticed the people closing the shops and
booths, and in holiday dress going to the parks and public squares.
He hastened to the palace. The great rotunda and the throne-room were
energetically astir. Everybody wore rich apparel and was talking of
the coming fete. The king was on his throne surrounded by his men
of science. In a cluster of ladies in court dress, the Englishman
recognized Bernardino. Catching his eye, she looked startled for an
instant, and, then, with a furtive glance at the king, she swept
her eyes back to Thorndyke and raised them significantly toward his
chambers. He understood, and his quick movement was his reply. He turned
immediately to an elevator that was going up, and entered it. Again
he was alone on the palace roof. The color of the sunlight looked
so natural that he studied it closely to see if he could not detect
something artificial in its appearance, but in vain. He found that it
did not pain his eyes to look at the sun steadily. He took from his
pocket a small sunglass, and focussed the rays on his hand, but the heat
was not intensified sufficiently to burn him.

Just then he heard a loud blast of a trumpet in a tall tower to the left
of the palace. It seemed a momentous signal. The jostling crowds in the
streets below suddenly stood motionless. Every eye was raised to the
sky. Not a sound broke the stillness. Following the glances of the crowd
a few minutes later, Thorndyke noticed a dark cloud rising in the west,
and spreading along the horizon. A feeling of awe came over him as it
gradually increased in volume, and, in vast black billows, began to roll
up toward the sun.

Suddenly out of the stillness came a faraway rumble like a fusillade of
cannon, now dying down low, again reaching such a height that it pained
the ears. Belated flying-machines darted across the sky here and there,
like storm-frightened birds, but they soon settled to earth. Every eye
was on the cloud which was now gashed with dazzling, vivid, electric
flashes. Thorndyke looked over the vast roof. He was alone. He walked to
the western parapet to get a broader view.

The clouds had increased till almost a third of the heavens were
obscured by the madly whirling blackness. There was a rumble in the
cloud, or beyond it, like thunder, and yet it was not, unless thunder
can be attuned, for the sound was like the music of a great orchestra
magnified a thousand-fold. The grand harmony died down. There was
a blinding flash of electricity in the clouds, and the Englishman
involuntarily covered his eyes with his hands. When he looked again the
blackness was covering the sun. For a moment its disk showed blood-red
through the fringe of the cloud and then disappeared. Total darkness
fell on everything.

The silence was profound. The very air seemed stagnant.

Then the wind overhead, by some unseen force, was lashed into fury, and
all the sky was filled with whirlpools of deeper blackness. Suddenly
there was a flash of soft golden light; this was followed by streams
of pink, of blue and of purple till the whole heavens were hung with
banners, flags, and rain-bows of flame. Again darkness fell, and it
seemed all the deeper after the gorgeous scene which had preceded it.
Thorndyke strained his sight to detect something moving below, but
nothing could be seen, and no sound came up from the motionless crowds.

Behind him he heard a soft footstep on the stone tiling. It drew nearer.
A hand was being carefully slid along the parapet. The hand reached him
and touched his arm.

It was the princess. “Ah, I have at last found you,” she whispered, “I
saw you in the lightning, but lost you again.”

He put his arm round her and drew her into his embrace. He tried to
speak, but uttered only an inarticulate sound.

“I could not possibly come earlier,” she apologized, nestling against
him so closely that he could feel the quick and excited beating of
her heart. “My father kept me with him till only a moment ago. Captain
Tradmos will be here soon.”

“When do we start?” he asked.

“That is the trouble,” she replied. “We had counted on getting away in
the darkness, before the display of lightning, but there is more danger
now. If our flying-machine were noticed the search-lights would be
turned on us and we would be discovered at once.”

“But even if we get safely away in the darkness when could we return?”

“Oh, that would be easy,” she replied. “As soon as the fete is over,
commerce will be resumed and the air will be filled with air-ships that
have been delayed in their regular business, and, in the disguises which
I have for us both, we could come back without rousing suspicion. We
could alight in Winter Park and return home later.”

“What is Winter Park?”

“You have not seen it? You must do so; it is one of the wonders of
Alpha. It is a vast park enclosed with high walls and covered with a
roof of glass. Inside the snow falls, and we have sleighing and coasting
and lakes of ice for skating. It was an invention of the king. The
snowstorms there are beautiful.”

Thorndyke’s reply was drowned in a harmonious explosion like that of
tuned cannon; this was followed by the chimes of great bells which
seemed to swing back and forth miles overhead.

“Listen!” whispered Bernardino, “father calls it ‘musical thunder,’ and
he declares that it is produced in no other country but this.”

“It is not; he is right.” And the heart of the Englishman was stirred
by deep emotion. He had never dreamed that anything could so completely
chain his fancy and elevate his imagination as what he heard. The
musical clangor died down. The strange harmony grew more entrancing
as it softened. Then the whole eastern sky began to flush with rosy,
shimmering light.

“My father calls this the ‘Ideal Dawn of Day,’” whispered Bernardino.
“See the faint golden halo near the horizon; that is where the sun is
supposed to be.”

“How is it done?” asked the Englishman.

“Few of our people know. It is a secret held only by the king and half a
dozen scientists. The whole thing, however, is operated by two men in a
room in the dome of the palace. The musician is a young German who was
becoming the wonder of the musical world when father induced him to come
to us. I have met him. He says he has been thoroughly happy here. He
lives on music. He showed me the instrument he used to play, a little
thing he called a violin, and its tones could not reach beyond the
limits of a small room. He laughs at it now and says the instrument
that father gave him to play on has strings drawn from the centre of the
earth to the stars of heaven.”

The rose-light had spread over the horizon and climbed almost to the
zenith, and with the dying booming and gentle clangor it began to fade
till all was dark again.

“Captain Tradmos ought to be here now,” continued the princess, glancing
uneasily toward the stairway. “We may not have so good an opportunity as
this.”

Ten minutes went by.

“Surely, something has gone wrong,” whispered Bernardino. “I have never
seen the darkness last so long as this; besides, can’t you hear the
muttering of the people?”

Thorndyke acknowledged that he did. He was about to add something else,
but was prevented by a loud blast from the trumpet in the tower.

Bernardino shrank from him and fell to trembling.

“What is the matter?” he asked. “The trumpet!” she gasped, “something
awful has happened!”

A moment of profound silence, then the murmuring of the crowd rose
sullenly like the moaning of a rising storm; a search-light flashed up
in the gloom and swept its uncertain stream from point to point, but it
died out. Another and another shone for an instant in different parts of
the city, but they all failed.

“Something awful has happened,” repeated Bernardino, as if to herself;
“the lights will not burn!”

“Had we not better go down?” asked Thorndyke anxiously, excited by her
unusual perturbation.

For answer she mutely drew him to the eastern parapet. Far away in the
east there still lingered a faint hint of pink, but all over the whole
landscape darkness rested.

“See!” she exclaimed, pointing upward, “the clouds are thinning over the
sun, and yet there is no light. What can be the matter?”

At that juncture they heard soft steps on the roof and a voice calling:

“Bernardino! Princess Bernardino!”

“It is Tradmos,” she ejaculated gladly, then she called out softly:

“Tradmos! Tradmos!”

“Here!” the voice said, and a figure loomed up before them. It was the
captain. He was panting violently, as if he had been running.

“What is it?” she asked, clasping his arm.

“The sun has gone out,” he announced.

A groan escaped her lips and she swayed into Thorndyke’s arms.

“The clouds are thinning over the sun, yet there is no light. The king
is excited; he fears a panic!”

“Has such a thing never happened?” asked Thorndyke.

“An hundred years ago; then thousands lost their lives. As soon as the
people suspect the cause of the delay they will go mad with fear.”

“What can we do?” asked the princess, recovering her self-possession.

“Nothing, wait!” replied Tradmos. “This is as safe a place as you could
find. Perhaps the trouble may be averted. Look!”

The disk of the veiled sun was aglow with a faintly trembling light;
but it went out. The silence was profound. The populace seemed unable
to grasp the situation, but when the light had flickered over the black
face of the sun once more and again expired, a sullen murmur rose and
grew as it passed from lip to lip.

It became a threatening roar, broken by an occasional cry of pain and
a dismal groan of terror. There was a crash as if a mountain had been
burst by explosives.

“The swinging bridge has been thrown down!” said Tradmos.

Light after light flashed up in different parts of the city, but they
were so small and so far apart that they seemed to add to the darkness
rather than to lessen it.

“The moon, it will rise!” cried the princess.

“It cannot,” said Tradmos in his beard, “at least not for several
hours.”

“They will kill my father,” she said despondently, “they always hold him
responsible for any accident.”

“They cannot reach him,” consoled Tradmos. “He is safe for the present
at least.”

“Is it possible to make the repairs needed?”

“I don’t know. When the accident happened long ago the sun was just
rising.”

“Has it stopped?”

“I think not; it has simply gone out; the electric connection has, in
some way, been cut off.”

The tumult seemed to have extended to the very limits of the city, and
was constantly increasing. The smashing of timber and the falling of
heavy stones were heard near by.

Tradmos leaned far over the parapet. “They are coming toward us!” he
said; “they intend to destroy the palace; we must try to get down, but
we shall meet danger even there.”



Chapter XIII.

Johnston and Branasko looked down at the great ball of light below them
in silent wonder. Johnston was the first to speak. He pointed to the
four massive cables which supported the sun at each corner of the
platform and extended upward till they were enveloped in the darkness.

“They hold us up,” he said, “where do they go to?”

“To the big trucks which run on the tracks near the roof of the cavern;
the endless cables are up there, too, but we can not see them with this
glare about us.”

“We can see nothing of Alpha from here,” remarked Johnston
disappointedly, “we can see nothing beyond our circle of light.”

“I should like to look down from this height at night,” said the
Alphian. “It would be a great view.”

“What is this?” Johnston went to one side of the platform and laid his
hand on the spokes of a polished metal wheel shaped like the pilot-wheel
of a steamboat. Branasko hastened to him.

“Don’t touch it,” he warned. “It looks as if it were to turn the
electric connection off and on. If the sun should go out, the
consequences would be awful. The people of Alpha would go mad with
fear.”

The American withdrew his hand, and he and Branasko walked back to the
centre of the platform. Johnston uttered an exclamation of surprise.
“The light is changing.”

And it was, for it was gradually fading into a purple that was
delightfully soothing to the eye after the painful brightness of a
moment before.

“I understand,” said the Alphian, “we are running very slow and are only
now about to approach the great wall, for purple is the color of the
first morning hour.”

“But how is the light changed?” asked Johnston curiously.

“By some shifting of glasses through which the rays shine, I presume,”
 returned the Alphian; “but the mechanism seems to be concealed in the
walls of the globe.”

Not a word was spoken for an hour. They had lain down on the platform
near the iron railing which encompassed it, and Branasko was dozing
intermittently. Again the light began to change gradually. This time it
was gray. Johnston put out his hand to touch Branasko, but the Alphian
was awake. He sat up and nodded smiling. “Wait till the next hour,” he
said; “it will be rose-color; that is the most beautiful.”

Slowly the hours dragged by till the yellow light showed that it was the
sixth hour. Branasko had been exploring the vast interior below and came
back to Johnston who was asleep on the floor of the platform.

“I have just thought of something,” said Branasko. “This is the day
appointed by the king to entertain his subjects with a grand display of
the elements.”

“I do not understand,” said Johnston.

“The king,” explained the Alphian, “darkens the sun with clouds so that
all Alpha is blacker than night, and then he produces great storms in
the sky, and lightning and musical thunder. We may, perhaps, hear the
music, but we cannot witness the storm and electric display on account
of the light about us. It usually begins at this hour; so be silent and
listen.”

After a few minutes there was a rumble from below like the roar of a
volcano and an answering echo from the black dome overhead. This died
away and was succeeded by a crash of musical thunder that thrilled
Johnston’s being to its very core. Branasko’s face was aglow with
enthusiasm.

“Grand, glorious!” he ejaculated, “but if only you could see the
lightning and the dawn in the east you would remember it all your life.
The sunlight is cut off from Alpha by the clouds, and there is no light
except the wonderful effects in the sky.”

Johnston had gone back to the wheel and was examining it curiously.

“I have a mind to turn off the current for a moment anyway,” he said
doggedly; “if the sun is hidden they would not discover it.”

Branasko came to him, a weird look of interest in his eyes. “That
is true,” he said; “besides, what matters it? We may not live to see
another day.”

Johnston acted on a sudden impulse. He intended only to frighten
Branasko by moving the wheel slightly, and he had turned it barely an
eighth of an inch, when, as if controlled by some powerful spring, it
whirled round at a great rate, making a loud rattling noise. To their
dismay the light went out.

“My God! what have I done?” gasped the American in alarm.

“Settled our fate, I have no doubt,” muttered the Alphian from the
darkness.

Johnston had recoiled from the whirling wheel, and now cautiously groped
back to it, and attempted to turn it. It would not move.

“It has caught some way,” he groaned under his breath.

“And we have no light to find the cause of the trouble,” added the
Alphian, who had knelt down and was feeling about the wheel. Presently
he rose.

“I give it up,” he sighed, “I cannot understand it. The machinery is
somewhere inside.”

“It has grown colder,” shuddered Johnston.

“We were warmed by the light, of course,” remarked Branasko, “and now we
feel the dampness more. We are going at a frightful speed.”

Just then there was a jar, and the sun swung so violently from side to
side that the two men were prostrated on the floor. The speed seemed to
slacken.

“I wonder if we are going to stop,” groaned the American, and he sat
up and held to Branasko. “Perhaps they will draw us back to rectify the
mistake, and then----”

“It cannot be done,” interrupted the Alphian. “The machinery runs only
one way. We shall simply have to finish our journey in darkness.”

“They may catch us on the other side before the sun starts back through
the tunnel,” suggested the American.

“Not unlikely,” returned Branasko. “There, we are going ahead again. One
thing in our favor is that we can more easily escape capture in darkness
than if the sun were shining.”

“Does the sun stop before entering the tunnel?”

“I do not know,” replied Branasko; “perhaps somebody will be there to
see what is wrong with the light. We must have our wits about us when we
land.”

Johnston was looking over the edge of the platform. “If the king’s
display is taking place down there I can see no sign of it.”

“How stupid of us!” ejaculated Branasko. “Of course, clouds sufficiently
dense to hide the sun from Alpha would also prevent us from seeing the
display below. I ought to----”

He was interrupted by a grand outburst of harmony. The whole earth
seemed to vibrate with sublime melody. “Our blunder has not been
discovered yet,” finished Branasko, after a pause, “else the fete down
below would have been over. I am cold; shall we go inside?”

Johnston’s answer was taken out of his mouth by a loud rattling
beneath the floor, near the wheel he had just turned; the sun shook
spasmodically for an instant, and its entire surface was faintly
illuminated, but the light failed signally.

“It must have been an extra current of electricity sent to relight the
lamps,” remarked Johnston; and, as he concluded, the sun trembled again,
and another flash and failure occurred. “Look,” cried the American,
“the clouds are thinning; see the lights below! They have discovered the
accident!”

They both leaned over the railing and looked below. As far as the eye
could reach, within the arc of their vision, they could see fitful
lights flashing up, here and there, and going out again. And then they
heard faint sounds of crashing masonry and the condensed roar of human
voices, which seemed to come from above rather than from below. The
Alphian turned. “I cannot stand the cold,” he said.

Johnston followed him. The rapid motion of the swinging sphere made him
dizzy, and he caught Branasko’s arm to keep from falling.

“How can we tell when we go over the wall?” he asked anxiously.

“We shall have to guess at it,” was the answer. “At any rate we must be
near the lower door so as to get out quickly if it is necessary to do so
to escape detection.”

In the darkness they slowly made their way down the stairs to the great
room.

“There ought to be some way of making a light,” said the Alphian, and
his voice sounded loud and hollow in the empty chamber. After several
failures to find the stairs they descended to the door they had entered.
Branasko opened it a little, and a breeze came in. They sat down on
the stone, and after a while, in sheer fatigue, they fell asleep. Hours
passed. Branasko rose with a start, and shook Johnston.

“Our speed is lessening,” he exclaimed. “We must be going down. Be ready
to jump out the instant we stop. There, let me open the door wider.”



Chapter XIV.

When Tradmos spoke the words of warning, Thorndyke put his arm round
the princess and drew her after Tradmos, who was hastening away in the
gloom.

“Wait,” she said, drawing back. “Let us not get excited. We are really
as safe here as there; for in their madness they will kill one another
and trample them under foot.” She led him to a parapet overlooking the
great court below. “Hear them,” she said, in pity, “listen to their
blows and cries. That was a woman’s voice, and some man must have struck
her.”

“Tell me what is best to do,” said the Englishman. “I want to protect
you, but I am helpless; I don’t know which way to turn.”

“Wait,” she said simply, and the Englishman thought she drew closer to
him, as if touched by his words.

There was a crash of timbers--a massive door had fallen--a scrambling
of feet on the stone pavement, and they could see the dark human mass
surging into the court through the corridors leading from the streets.

“What are they doing?” asked Thorn dyke.

She shrank from the parapet as if she had been struck.

“Tearing the pillars down,” she replied aghast; “this part of the palace
will fall. Oh, what can be done!”

There was a grinding of stone upon stone, a mad yell from an hundred
throats, the crash of glass, and, with a thunderous sound, a colossal
pillar fell to the earth. The roof beneath the feet of the princess and
Thorndyke trembled and sagged, and the tiling split and showered about
them.

Raising Bernardino in his arms, as if she were an infant, Thorndyke
sprang toward the stairway leading to his chambers, but the roof had
sunken till it was steep and slippery. One instant he was toppling
over backward, the next, by a mighty effort, he had recovered his
equilibrium, and finally managed to reach a safer place. As he hurried
on another pillar went down. The roof sagged lower, and an avalanche of
mortar and tiling slid into the court below. Yells, groans, and cries of
fury rent the air.

Bernardino had fainted. Thorndyke tried to restore her to consciousness,
but dared not put her from him for an instant. On he ran, and presently
reached a flight of stairs which he thought led to his chambers. He
descended them, and was hastening along a narrow corridor on the floor
beneath when Bernardino opened her eyes. She asked to be released from
his arms. He put her down, but supported her along the corridor.

“We have lost our way,” he said, as he discovered that the corridor,
instead of leading to his chambers, turned off obliquely in another
direction.

“Let’s go on anyway,” she suggested; “it may lead us out. I have never
been here before. I--” A great crash drowned her words. The floor
quivered and swayed, but it did not fall. On they ran through the
darkness, till Thorndyke felt a heavy curtain before. He paused
abruptly, not knowing what to do. Bernardino felt of its texture,
perplexed for an instant.

“Draw it aside, it seems to hang across the corridor,” she said. He
obeyed her, and only a few yards further on they saw another curtain
with bars of light above and below it. They drew this aside, and found
themselves on the threshold of a most beautiful apartment.

In the mosaic floor were pictures cut in colored stones, and the ceiling
was a silken canopy as filmy and as delicately blue as the sky on a
summer’s night. The floor was strewn with richly embroidered pillows,
couches, rugs and ottomans; and here and there were palm trees and beds
of flowers and grottoes. A solitary light, representing the moon, showed
through the silken canopy in whose folds little lights sparkled like
far-off stars.

Thorndyke looked at the princess inquiringly. She was bewildered.

“I have no idea where we are,” she murmured. “I am sure I have never
been here before; but there is another apartment beyond. Listen! I hear
cries.”

“Some one in distress,” he answered, and he drew her across the room and
through a door into another room more beautiful than the one they had
just left. Here, huddled together at a window overlooking the court,
were six or eight beautiful young women. They were staring out into the
darkness, and moaning and muttering low cries of despair.

“It is my father’s ladies,” ejaculated the princess aghast. “He would
be angry if he knew we had come here. No one but himself enters these
apartments.”

Just then one of the women turned a lovely and despairing face toward
them, and came forward and knelt at the feet of Bernardino.

“Oh, save us, Princess,” she cried.

“Be calm,” said the princess, touching the white brow of the woman. “The
danger may soon pass; this portion of the palace is too strongly built
for them to injure it.” Then she turned to Thorndyke: “We must hasten on
and find our way down; it would never do for us to be seen here.” Then
she turned to the kneeling woman and said gently: “I hope you will say
nothing to the king of this; we lost our way in trying to get down from
the roof.”

“I will not,” gladly promised the woman, and seeing that Bernardino
knew not which way to turn, she guided them to a door opening into a
dimly-lighted corridor. “It will take you out to the balconies and down
to the audience-chamber,” she said. The princess thanked her, and she
and the Englishman descended several flights of stairs. Reaching one
of the balconies they met the denser darkness of the outside and the
deafening clang and clamor of the multitude. There was no light of
any kind, and Thorndyke and his charge had to press close against the
balustrade of the balcony to keep from being crushed by the mad torrent
of humanity.

Now and then a strident voice would rise above the din:--

“Down with the palace! Death to the king!”

The trumpet in the tower sounded again and again.

“It is my father trying to attract their attention,” explained the
princess. “Something very serious has happened for once. In speaking
of the time the sun went out before, he told me that he had made an
invention which, in such a crisis, would instantly restore confidence to
the people. I cannot understand why he does not use it. Oh, I am afraid
they will kill him!”

Thorndyke tried to console her, for he saw that she was weeping, but
just then there was a strange lull in the general tumult. What could
have happened?

“The dawn! the ideal dawn!” cried Bernardino, pointing to the eastern
sky. Thorndyke looked in wonder. A purple light had spread along the
horizon, and as it gradually softened into gray and slowly turned to
pink, the noise of the populace died down. No sound could now be heard
save the low groans of wounded men and women. What a sight met the view
as the rose-light shimmered over the city! The dead and dying lay under
the feet of the crowd. Almost every creature bore some mark of violence.
Eyes were blood-shot, clothing torn, limbs were bleeding, and mingled
fury and sudden hope struggled in each ashen face. The young trees and
shrubbery had been trampled under foot, and walls, arcades and triumphal
arches had been thrown down. The fragments of statues lay here and
there, and the bodies of human beings filled the basins of broken
fountains.

“It is not the sun,” explained Bernardino; “but the invention my father
spoke of. He is doing it to calm them.”

Thorndyke made no answer. He stood as if transfixed, gazing at the
horizon. The rose-light had spread over a third of the sky when
gradually there appeared in its centre a bright circle of yellow light.
The yellow light faded, leaving a perfect picture of the throne of the
king; and as the now silent masses looked at the picture, a curtain
behind the throne parted and the king himself appeared. He advanced and
sat on the throne, and turned a calm face towards his subjects.

“Wonderful!” ejaculated Bernardino, and her face was full of hope. “See
what he will do!”

“Where is the picture?” asked Thorndyke; “can it be seen by all of--of
the people?”

“Yes, by all Alpha, for it is on the sky.”

Thorndyke said nothing further, for the king had stood up, and with
hands out-stretched was bowing. Above the circle of light, as if cut out
of the solid blackness, in flaming letters stood the word,

“SILENCE!”

And there was silence. Even the lips of the wounded men closed as the
king began to speak. The sound of his voice seemed as far away as the
stars, and to permeate all space:--

“All danger is over. Tidings from the west state that the sun is
setting. No harm has come to it. It will rise in the morning, and the
moon and stars will be out in a few hours. Let the dead be removed, the
wounded cared for, and everything be repaired. This is my will.”

That was all. The king bowed sedately and retired from the throne, and
the circle and pink glow faded from the black sky. The stillness
was unbroken for a moment, then glad murmurings were heard in all
directions.

“They are lighting the palace,” cried the princess. “See, down there is
the arcade leading to the rotunda.”

“I am glad it is over,” said Thorndyke.

She grasped his arm and impulsively looked into his face. “But your
friend, we have forgotten him, and done nothing to save him, and now it
is too late.”

“We could not help it; we had to think of our own safety.”

“I shall send for Captain Tradmos and try to devise some other plan,”
 she said, as they descended the stairs.

“We should not be seen together,” she added, as they approached the
throne-room; “besides, you ought to go to your chambers. No one is
allowed to be out when the dead is being removed.”

“Where is the dead taken?”

“Over the wall, to be burned in the internal fires,” she concluded, as
she was leaving him.

He found everything in order in his rooms and he lay down and tried to
sleep, but he was too much excited over the happenings of the day. Hours
must have passed when his attention was drawn to a bright light shining
on the wall of his room. He went to a window and looked out on the
court. The light came from the rising moon.

Below lay the ruins of fallen columns, capitals, cornices and statues.
Figures in black cloaks and cowls were removing the dead from the
debris. With a fluttering sound something swooped down past his window
to the ground. It looked like a great bird, carrying the car of a
flying-machine. Thorndyke watched its circular descent to the earth, and
shuddered with horror as the black figures filled the car with bodies
and the gruesome machine spread its wings and rose slowly till it was
clear of the domes and pinnacles of the palace, and then flew away
westward.

Other machines came, and, one after another, received their ghastly
burdens and departed. In a short time all the dead was removed, and
hundreds of workmen came from the palace and began repairing the fallen
masonry.

Thorndyke went back to his couch and tried to sleep, but in vain. Slowly
the hours of night passed, and as the purple of dawn rose in the east he
dressed himself and went up on the roof. The moon had gone down and the
stars were fading from the sky. The dark earth below showed no signs of
life; but as the purple light softened into gray he saw that the streets
of the city were filled with silent expectant people, all watching the
eastern sky. And, as the gray light flushed into rose, and the rose
began to scintillate with gold, they began to stir, and a hum of joyful
voices was heard. The promised day had come.



Chapter XV.

The sun was, indeed, slowing up. The two men peered out at the door.

“It would be unlucky for us if it should not come so near to the earth
as it did on the other side,” whispered Branasko.

“I can hardly feel any motion to the thing at all,” replied the
American. “Look! for some reason it is not so dark below. I can see the
rocks. Surely we have already passed over the wall.”

“That’s so,” returned the Alphian. “Come; we must be quick and watch our
opportunity to land. I can’t imagine where the light comes from unless
it be from the people waiting for the arrival of the sun.” Every instant
the speed was lessening. Overhead the cables were beginning to creak
and groan, and, now and then, the great globe swung perilously near some
tall stony peak, or passed under a mighty stalactite. Slower and slower
it got till, when within a few feet of the ground, it stopped its onward
motion and only swung back and forth like a pendulum.

“Quick,” whispered Branasko, “we must get down while it is swinging, no
time to lose--not an instant!” And as the sun moved backward, with his
hand on the doorsill, he leaped to the earth. Johnston followed him.
They were not a moment too soon, for about fifty yards away they saw a
body of sixty or seventy men with lights in their hands hastening toward
them.

“Just in time,” exulted Branasko, and he quickly drew Johnston into a
little cave in the face of a cliff. Crouching behind a great rock, they
saw and heard the men as they approached.

Some of them walked around the sun, and two, evidently in authority,
entered the door. The others were placing ladders against the side of
the sphere, when suddenly there was a loud clattering in the interior, a
whirling of wheels under the platform above, and the surface of the sun
burst into light.

The two refugees were momentarily blinded. Branasko had the presence of
mind to quickly draw his companion down close to the earth behind the
rock. “They could see us in the light,” he whispered.

There was a joyous clamoring of voices among the men, and they withdrew
several yards to look at the sun. This drew them nearer the hiding-place
of the two refugees.

“Only an accident,” said a voice; “it won’t happen again.”

Then one of them went into the sun and the lights died out. In a moment
the sun began to move. Slowly and majestically it swept over the rocky
earth, followed by the crowd, till it reached a great hole and sank into
it.

“Gone into the tunnel,” said the Alphian, as the crowd disappeared
behind the cliff.

“What are we to do now?” asked Johnston. “We certainly can’t go through
with the sun.”

“Wait till the next trip,” grimly replied Branasko.

The rumbling noise from the big hole gradually died away, and the two
men left their hiding-place.

“What is that?” asked Johnston. He pointed to the west, where a red
light shone against the towering cliffs.

“It must be the internal fires,” answered Branasko, with a noticeable
shudder. “Let’s go nearer; I have heard that there is a point near here
where one can look down into the Lake of Flame.”

“The Lake of Flame!” echoed the American, “What is that?” “It is where
all of the dead of Alpha is cast by the black ‘vultures of death.’”

Johnston said nothing, for it was difficult to keep up with the Alphian,
who was bounding over rocks and dangerous fissures toward the red glow
in the distance.

At every step the atmosphere got warmer, and they detected a slight
gaseous odor in the air. Finally, after an arduous tramp of an hour,
they climbed up a steep hill and looked sharply down into a vast
bubbling lake of molten matter more than a thousand yards below.
Branasko noticed a stone weighing several tons evenly balanced on the
verge of the great gulf, and pushed it with both his hands. It rocked,
broke loose from its slender hold on the cliff and bounded out into the
red space. Down it went, lessen-ing as it sank till it became a mere
black speck and then disappeared.

“That’s where the dead go,” said Branasko gloomily.

Just then the American, happening to glance up, saw something like a
huge black bird with outspread wings circling about in the red light
over the pit. Branasko saw it, too, and his face paled and a tremolo was
in his voice when he spoke.

“It is one of the ‘vultures of death;’ don’t stir; we won’t be seen if
we remain where we are!” The strange machine sank lower over the lake
of fire, till, as if buoyed up on the hot air, with faintly quivering
wings, it paused. A man opened a door of the black car and carelessly
threw out the bodies of a woman and a child.

The bodies whirled over and over and disappeared in the pit, and the man
closed the door. The machine then rose and gracefully winged its flight
to the east. In a moment others came with their grim burdens, and still
others, till the mouth of the pit was dark with them.

“Something has happened,” whispered Branasko, “some great calamity, for
surely so many people do not die in Alpha in a single day.”

For an hour they watched the coming and going of the vultures, till,
finally the last one hovered over the lake of fire. Suddenly the machine
swerved so near to Branasko and Johnston that they shrank close to the
earth to keep from being seen. Something was evidently wrong with the
machine, for there was a wild look of desperation on the driver’s face
as he tugged excitedly at the pilot-wheel. But all his efforts only
caused the air-ship to dart irregularly from side to side, and, now and
then, to strike the rocks of the pit’s mouth, to shoot up suddenly, or
to sink dangerously down toward the fire.

“He is losing control of it,” whispered Branasko, “he does not know what
to do. See, he is trying to lighten the load, by kicking out the body.”

That was true, and, as the machine made a sudden plunge toward the cliff
a few yards to the left of the refugees, the dead body, which the driver
had managed to move to the door with his feet, fell out and lodged upon
the edge of the cliff instead of falling into the fiery depths. The
machine bounded up a few yards and paused, now apparently under the
control of its driver. The man looked down hesitatingly at the corpse
for a moment and then lowered the machine to the sloping rock near where
the body lay. He alighted and cautiously crept down the steep incline
to the body. He raised it in his arms and was about to cast it from him
when his foot slipped, and with a cry of horror he fell with his burden
over the cliff’s edge into the red abyss.

Johnston uttered an exclamation of horror, but Branasko was unmoved.
After a moment he rose, and carefully scanning the space overhead,
he crawled on hands and knees toward the machine. Johnston heard him
chuckling to himself and uttering spasmodic laughs, and he watched him
closely as he reached the machine. For several minutes he seemed to be
inspecting it critically, both inside and out; then he stood away from
it, a bold, black silhouette on a background of flame, and motioned the
American to come to him.

Johnston promptly, but not without many misgivings, obeyed his signal.
“What are you up to?” asked he, as the Alphian assisted him to rise from
his hands and knees.

Branasko touched the machine and smiled. His face was shining with
enthusiasm.

“The question of our returning to Alpha is settled,” he said
sententiously.

“How?”

“We can go in this.”

“Can you manage it?”

“Easily; that fellow must have been drunk; the machine is in good order,
I think.”

“When do you propose to start?” and the American eyed the funeral-car
dubiously.

“The night is before us; we could not get a better time.” As he spoke
he entered the car and laid his hand on the wheel. Johnston, obeying
his nod, followed, shuddering as he remarked the traces of blood on the
floor.

“All right!” Branasko turned the wheel slowly, and the wings outside
began to flap, and the car mounted into the air like a startled bird and
flew out quickly over the pit.

Branasko bit his lip, and Johnston heard him stifle an exclamation of
impatience. As for the American, he was at once thrilled and fascinated
by the awful sight below; he could now see beneath the overhanging mouth
of the pit, and look far down into a boundless lake of molten matter
that seemed as restless as an ocean in a storm.

Then the air became so hot he could hardly breathe. He looked at the
Alphian in alarm. The latter was whirling the wheel first one way and
then another with a startled look of fear in his eyes, and then Johnston
noticed that the walls of the pit were rising about them, and the black
canopy overhead rapidly receding.

They were sinking down into the fire.

Almost wild with terror, the American sprang toward the wheel, but
Branasko pushed him away roughly.

“Stand back,” he ordered gruffly. “It is the heat; let me alone!”

The American sank into his seat. The heat became more and more intense.
Both men were purple in the face, and the perspiration was rolling from
their bodies in streams. Down sank the machine.

“I can’t manage it,” said Branasko hoarsely, “we’d as well give up.”
 Just then Johnston noticed the mouth of a cave behind Branasko.

“Look,” he cried, “can’t we get into it?”

Branasko looked over his shoulder, and, as he saw the cave, he uttered a
glad cry. He quickly turned the wheel and drew out a lever at his right.
The machine obeyed instantly; it swerved round suddenly and dived
into the cave. The cool air soon revived them, and Branasko had little
trouble in bringing the car to a resting-place on the rocky floor of the
cave. Before them hung impenetrable darkness, behind a curtain of red
light.

“We are in a pretty pickle now,” said Johnston despondently, as they
alighted from the car.

“Nothing to do but to make the best of it,” sighed Branasko.

“Perhaps this cave may lead out into some place of safety.”

Johnston’s eyes had become somewhat accustomed to the gloom, and he
began to peer into the darkness.

“I see a light,” he exclaimed; “it cannot be a reflection from the fire
in the pit, for it is whiter.”

The Alphian gazed at it steadily for a moment, then he said decidedly:
“We must go and see what it is.” Without another word he started toward
the white, star-like spot, sliding his hand over the rocky wall, and
springing over a fissure in the floor.

Gradually the light grew brighter, till, as they suddenly rounded a
cliff, a grand sight burst upon their view. They found themselves in a
vast dome-shaped cavern, thousands of yards in diameter and height.
And almost in the centre of the floor, from a red and purple mound of
cooling lava, leapt a white stream of molten matter from the floor to
the dome. And in the black dome, where the lava turned to molten spray,
hung countless stalactites of every color known to the artistic eye. And
from the foot of the fountain ran a tortuous rivulet that lighted the
walls and roof of a narrow chamber that extended for miles down toward
the bowels of the earth.

Branasko was delighted.

“The king does not know of this,” he declared, “else he would make it
accessible to his people, and call it one of the wonders of Alpha.
By accidentally sinking into the pit we have discovered it. But,” he
concluded, “we must at once try to find some way out other than that by
which we came.”

They turned from the beautiful fountain, and, holding to each other’s
hands, and aided by the light behind them, they stumbled laboriously
through the semi-darkness. Branasko’s ears were very acute. He paused to
listen.

“Hark ye!” he cautioned.

The combined roar of the pit and the fountain of lava had sunk to a low
murmur, but ahead of them they now heard a rushing sound like a distant
tornado.

“Come on,” said the Alphian, and he drew his companion after him with an
eagerness the American was slow to understand. The light in the
cavern gradually grew brighter. By a circuitous route they were again
approaching the pit of fire, though it was still hidden from sight.

Finally they reached a point where the wind was blowing stiffly, and
further on a volume of cold spray suddenly dashed upon them and wet them
to the skin. And when their eyes had become accustomed to the rolling
mist, they saw a great lake, and pouring into it from high above was a
mighty waterfall.

“Mercy!” ejaculated the Alphian, in great alarm. “If this is salt water
we are lost. All Alpha will come to an end!”

“What do you mean?” And Johnston wondered if Branasko’s trials and
struggle could have turned his brain.

“If it be salt water, then it has broken in from the ocean above Alpha,”
 he explained. “The king has often said that not a drop of the ocean has
ever entered the great cavern.”

Branasko stooped and wet his hand in a little pool at his feet. “I am
almost afraid to taste it,” said he, holding his hand near his mouth.
“It would settle all our fates.” He waited a moment and then touched his
fingers to his tongue.

“Salt!” That was all he said for several moments. He folded his arms and
looked mutely toward the boiling lake. Presently he raised his eyes
to the great hole in the roof, and groaned: “The break is gradually
widening. These stones are freshly broken, and the great bowl is
filling.”

“It will fill all Alpha with water and drown every soul in it,” added
the terrified American.

“That, however, is not the most immediate danger,” said Branasko wisely.
“They would first suffocate, and later their bodies would be swallowed
up in the stomach of the earth.”

“What do you mean?”

Branasko shrugged his shoulders. “As soon as this bowl is filled with
water, which would not take many hours, it would run over into the lake
of fire and produce an explosion that would rend Alpha from end to end.”

“Who knows, it might turn the whole Atlantic into the centre of the
earth, and destroy the entire earth.” But Branasko was unable to grasp
the full magnitude of the remark, for to him the world was simply a
vast cavern lighted by human ingenuity. He fastened a narrow splinter
of stone upright in the shallow water at his feet, and, lying down on his
stomach with his eyes close to it, he studied it for several minutes.
When he got up, a desperate gleam was in his dark eyes.

“It is rising fast,” he said. “We must attempt to get to the capitol and
warn the king. It is possible that he may be able to stop the opening.
The only thing left to us is to try our machine again.”

Johnston found it hard to keep pace with him as he bounded out of the
mist and on toward the faint glow ahead. Reaching the flying machine
Branasko entered it and turned on a small electric light.

“Ah,” he grunted with satisfaction, “I have found a light. I can now see
what is the matter with it.”

Johnston stood outside and heard him hammering on the metal parts in the
car, and became so absorbed in thinking of the peril of their position
that he was startled when Branasko cried out to him:--“All right. I
think we can make it do; a pin has lost out, but perhaps I can hold the
piece in place with my foot. If only we can stand the heat of the pit
long enough to rise above it, we may escape.”

Johnston followed him into the car. Branasko seated himself firmly and
gave the wheel a little turn. Slowly the machine rose. “See!” cried
Branasko, “it is under control. We must not be too hasty. Now for the
pit!”

The heart of the American was in his mouth as the long black wings waved
up and down and the air-ship, like some live thing, shuddered and swept
gracefully out of the mouth of the cave into the glare and heat of the
pit.

“Hold your breath!” yelled Branasko, and he bent lower into the car to
escape the shower of hot ashes that was falling about them. Far out
over the lake in a straight line they glided, and there came to a sudden
halt. Johnston’s eyes were glued on his companion’s face. Branasko sat
doubled up, every muscle drawn, his eyes bulging from their sockets.
Would he be strong enough? To Johnston everything seemed in a whirl. The
walls of the pit were rising around them.



Chapter XVI.

Thorndyke went down into his chambers to make his toilet and was ready
to leave when there was a soft rap on his door. He opened it, and to his
surprise saw Bernardino modestly draw herself back into the shadow of
the hall.

“Pardon me, but I must speak to you,” she stammered in confusion.

“What is it?” he asked, going out to her.

“I want to advise you to avoid my father to-day. He is greatly
disappointed with the accident of yesterday, and he is never courteous
to strangers when he is displeased. He was particularly anxious to have
you entertained by the fete.”

“Thank you; I shall keep out of his way,” promised the Englishman.
“Where had I better stay--here in my rooms?”

“No, he might send for you. If you would care to see Winter Park, I can
go with you as your guide.”

“I should be delighted; nothing could please me more.”

“But,” (as a servant passed in the room with a tray) “that is your
breakfast. Meet me at the fountain at the north entrance of the palace
in half an hour.” And, drawing her veil over her face, she vanished in
the darkness of the corridor.

After he had breakfasted and sent the man away, he hastened below to the
place designated by the princess. She was waiting for him under the palm
trees, and was so disguised that he would not have known her but for her
low amused laugh as he was about to pass her.

“It would not do for any one to suspect me,” she explained; “my father
would never forgive me for doing this.” She pointed to a flying-machine
near by. “We must take the air; I have made all the arrangements. Winter
Park is beyond the limits of the city.”

He followed her across the grass to the machine and into the car. They
could see the driver behind the glass of the narrow compartment in which
he sat, and when he turned the polished metal wheel the machine rose
like a liberated balloon.

Thorndyke looked out of the window. The blue haze of the fifth hour of
the morning was breaking over everything, and as the domes, pinnacles,
and vari-colored roofs fell away in the beautiful light, the breast of
the Englishman heaved with delightful emotions. Bernardino was watching
his face with a gratified smile.

“You like Alpha,” she said, half anxiously, half inquiringly.

“Very much,” he replied; “but I want to show you the great world I came
from;--and some day perhaps I can.”

The blood ran into her cheeks suddenly, and then as quickly receded,
leaving a wistful expression in her eyes. She sighed. “It has been my
dream for a long time. I have always imagined that it is more wonderful
than Alpha; but you know there is no chance for you to return now.”

“I shall manage to escape some way and you shall go with me as my wife.”

Her blushes came again. “I did not know that you cared that much for
me,” she said. Then, as if to change the subject, she pointed through
the window. “See, we are approaching the Park, and shall descend in a
moment.”

He looked out of the window and then drew his head in quickly.

“We are coming down into a big lake!” he cried out. “Oh, no, it is only
the glass roof of the park,” she laughed; “true, it does look like water
in the sunlight.”

The machine sank lower and finally rested on a plot of grass in a little
square ornamented with beds of flowers and white statues. Thorndyke
saw a seemingly endless wall, so high that he could not calculate its
height. Bernardino preceded him in at a great arching door in the wall,
and they found themselves in a stone-paved vestibule several hundred
feet square.

A maid servant came forward at once and brought heavy fur clothing
for them and invited them into separate toilet rooms. When he came out
Bernardino was waiting for him. He could hardly breathe, so thick were
the furs he had put on.

“It is warm here, but it will be colder in a moment,” said the princess.
And she led him to a door across the room. When the door was opened,
Thorndyke uttered an exclamation of astonishment. Before their eyes lay
a wide expanse of snow-covered roads, woodlands and frozen lakes and
streams. The air was as crisp and invigorating as a Canadian winter.

Bernardino led him to a pavilion where a number of pleasure-seekers were
gathered and selected a sleigh and two mettlesome horses. She took
the reins from the man, and sprang lightly into the graceful cutter.
Thorndyke followed her and wrapped the thick robes about her feet. Away
they sped like the wind down the smooth road, through a leafless forest.
Overhead the glass roof could not be seen, but a lowering gray cloud
hung over them and a light snow was falling.

“Winter Park is a great resort,” the princess explained; “we get tired
of the unchanging climate, and it is pleasant to visit such a place as
this. There is a winter park in every town of any size in Alpha.”

They drove along the shore of a beautiful lake, on the frozen surface
of which hundreds of skaters were darting here and there, and passed
hillsides on which crowds of young people were coasting in sleds. When
they had driven about ten miles in a circuitous route she turned the
horses round.

“We had better return,” she said; “you have not seen all of the Park,
but we can visit it some other time.”

Outside they found their flying-machine awaiting them, and were soon on
the way back to the city. They parted at the fountain in the park, she
hastening to the palace, and he turning to stroll through the little
wood behind him.

He was passing a thick bunch of trees when he was startled by hearing
his name called. He turned round, but at first saw no one.

“Thorndyke!” There it was again, and then he saw a hand beckoning to him
from a hedge of ferns at his right. He stepped back a few paces; a man
came out of the wood.

It was Johnston, his face was white and haggard, his clothing rent and
soiled.

“My God, can it be you?” gasped the Englishman.

“Nobody else,” groaned Johnston, cautiously advancing and laying a
trembling hand on the arm of Thorndyke; “but don’t talk loud, they will
find me.”

“Where did you come from?”

Johnston pointed first to the east, and then swept his hand over the sky
to the west.

“Over the wall,” he said despondently. “From the dead lands behind the
sun.”

“How did you get back here?”

For reply Johnston parted the fern leaves and pointed to the lank figure
of the tall Alphian, who lay curled up on the grass as if asleep.
“He brought me in that flying-machine there; but he has spent all his
strength in trying to manage the thing, which was out of order, and now
he is helpless. Twice we came within an inch of sinking down into the
internal fires. The last time we escaped only by the breadth of a hair;
if he had not had the endurance of a man of iron he would have succumbed
to the heat and we would have been lost. We sank so far down that I
became insensible and never knew a thing till the fresh air revived me.
See, my beard and hair are singed, and look how he is blistered. Poor
fellow! He is a hero.” Johnston stepped back and shook the Alphian, but
the poor fellow’s head only rolled to one side, showing his bloodshot
eyes. He was insensible.

“He is in a bad fix,” said Thorndyke; “where did he come from?”

“Banished like myself; we met over there in the dark and roamed about
together.”

“What are you going to do?”

“I don’t know; I was following his lead. We will both be put to death if
we are discovered.”

“Did he not tell you his plan?”

Johnston started visibly. “Oh, I forgot,” he exclaimed. “He declares
that all this vast cavern is in danger. Over in the west we discovered
a hole in the roof through which the ocean is streaming in a torrent.
He calculated that before many hours the water would overflow into the
internal fires and produce a volcanic eruption that will swallow up all
of Alpha.”

“Merciful Heaven! and you are hiding here at such a moment? The king
must be informed at once.”

Johnston had grown suddenly paler. “It may not be as bad as Branasko
feared, and the king would have no mercy on me and him.”

“Leave that to me,” said Thorndyke; “I have made a good friend of the
Princess Bernardino. She will tell me what is best to do. Remain here.”

In breathless haste, Thorndyke went into the audience chamber.
Fortunately the king was not on his throne, and he caught sight of the
confidential maid of the princess.

She saw him approaching, and withdrew behind a cluster of tall white
jars of porcelain containing rare plants.

“I must see your mistress,” he said; “tell her to come to me at once; we
are in great peril!”

The girl swept her eyes over the balconies and the throne and said: “She
is in her apartments, sir; I shall bring her.”

“Tell her to meet me at the fountain where we last met,” and he hastened
back to the spot mentioned.

She soon came. “What is it?” she asked excitedly.

“Johnston is back,” he replied. “He is in the wood there with a fellow
who escaped with him in a disabled flying-machine. He says the sea
has broken through over in the west and is streaming into Alpha in a
torrent.”

“Surely there is some mistake,” she said; “such a thing has never
happened.”

“It may have been caused by the explosives during the storm,” went on
Thorndyke. “Branasko, the Alphian who was with Johnston, says we are in
imminent peril.”

“There must be some mistake,” she repeated incredulously, as she looked
to westward. The green glow of the second hour of the afternoon lay
over everything. She stood mute and motionless for a long time,
looking steadily at the horizon; then she started suddenly, changed her
position, and shaded her eyes from the sunlight.

“It really does seem to me that there is a cloud rising, and it is
unlike any cloud I ever saw.”

“I see it too!” cried the Englishman; “it must be that the water has
already reached the internal fires.”

Bernardino was very pale when she turned to him.

“My father must know this at once; come with me.”

Into the palace, through the vast rotunda, past the throne, and into
the very apartment of the king himself she led him hastily. A royal
attendant met them and held up his hands warningly. “The king is
asleep,” he said in an undertone.

“Wake him--wake him at once!” commanded the excited girl.

“I cannot, it would offend him,” was the reply.

She did not pause an instant, but darting past the man and running to
the king’s couch, she drew the curtain aside and touched the sleeper. He
waked in anger, but her first word disarmed him.

“Alpha is in danger.”

“What!” he growled, half awake. “The sea is breaking through in the
west, and running into the internal fires.”

“How do you know that?”

“A dense cloud is rising in the west, and:----”

“Impossible!” the word came from far down in his throat, and he was
ghastly pale. He ran to the table and touched a button and, to the
astonishment of Thorndyke, the walls on the western side of the room
silently parted, showing a little balcony overlooking the street
below. The king went hastily out and looked toward the west. The others
followed him. The princess stifled a cry of alarm when she glanced at
the sky.

Great black, rolling clouds were rapidly spreading along the horizon.

The king looked at them as helplessly as a frightened child. “The air!”
 he groaned. “It is hot!” and then he held out his hand to the princess,
and showed her a flake of soot on it, and he dumbly pointed to others
that were falling about them.

“How did you discover it?” he asked, and Thorndyke saw that he was
trying to appear calm.

“Mr.--this gentleman’s friend has returned from banishment, and----”

“Returned! has the wall been destroyed?”

“No; he accidentally discovered the danger, and came in a flying-machine
to warn you.”

“Where is he? bring him to me, quick!”

“But you will not ----”

He waved his hand impatiently. “Go; if Alpha is saved he shall be at
liberty--if it is not, what does it matter?”

Thorndyke hastened away after Johnston, who, when he was told of the
king’s words, readily accompanied his friend to the presence of the
ruler. They found him with his daughter still on the balcony.

“How did you discover this?” asked the king, turning to the American.

As quickly as possible, Johnston related his adventures, and
particularly the story of the shooting fountain and the fall of salt
water. The king did not wait for him to conclude. He ran back into his
chamber, touched another button, and the next instant alarm-bells were
ringing all over the city.

“A signal to the protectors,” explained the princess to Thorndyke; “by
this time they are ringing all over Alpha. Oh, what will become of us?”
 as she spoke she leaned over the balustrade and looked down into the
street. Vast crowds had gathered and were motionless, except at points
where the purple-clad “protectors” rushed from public buildings to
assemble in squads on the street corner.



Chapter XVII.

Bernardino turned to look after her father as he was leaving the room.

“He is going to the observatory,” she said to Thorndyke and Johnston.
“Let us go also.” And they followed the king into the room with the
glass roof and walls covered with mirrors which he had shown the
strangers several days before. A white-headed old man stood at the
stand, his fingers trembling over the half circle of electric buttons.
In a mirror before him he was studying the reflection of a town of
perhaps a hundred houses. The streets were filled with excited
citizens, and a squad of protectors stood ready for action near a row of
flying-machines.

“Ornethelo,” said the king, and at the sound of his voice the old man
turned and bowed humbly.

“All right,” went on the king, “I will take your place a moment.”

He went to the stand and touched a button. Instantly the scene changed;
fields, forests, streams and hills ran by in a murky blur, and then
a larger town flashed on the mirror. Here the same stir and alertness
characterized the scene. The gaze of every inhabitant was fixed on the
threatening horizon. Rapidly the scenes shifted at the king’s will, till
a hundred cities, towns and villages had been reviewed.

“Enough! They are all ready--all faithful,” groaned the king, “and,
Ornethelo, they may all have to perish to-day, and all for our ambition.
Poor mortals!”

Ornethelo’s face was half submerged in the beard on his breast, but he
looked up suddenly and spoke:

“For their sakes, then, we ought not to delay; there may yet be hope.”

“You are right, Ornethelo.” There was a ring of hope in the voice of the
king. “Quick! show me my capitol, that I may see if all the protectors
are ready.”

Ornethelo touched another button, and, as if seen from a great height,
the fair and wondrous city dawned before the eyes of the spectators.
In every street policemen and protectors and flying-machines stood
in orderly readiness. The housetops were colored with the variegated
costumes of men, women and children. Over all lay the wondrous sunlight,
through the green splendor of which the flakes of soot were falling like
black snow.

The king touched the old man’s arm. “I must see beyond the walls; are
the connections made?”

“Ready, sir.”

“Try them; they must not fail me now!”

The old man tremblingly unlocked a cabinet on the table, and another row
of electric buttons was displayed. Ornethelo touched one. Immediately
there was a sharp clicking sound under the stand, and the view was swept
from the mirror. Nothing could be seen but a dark suggestion of towering
cliffs and yawning caverns.

“Not the east, Ornethelo,” cried the king impatiently. “Go on! the west!
the west!”

The black landscape flashed by like a glimpse of night from a flying
train, and then a blur of redly illuminated smoke in rolling billows
seemed to swell out from the surface of the mirror into the room.

“There, slow!” cried the king, and then a frightful scene burst upon
their sight. They beheld a great belching pit of fire and flames. The
sky from the earth to the zenith was a vast expanse of illuminated
smoke, and the black landscape round about was cut by rivulets of molten
lava rolling on and on like restless streams of quicksilver.

The king leaned against the stand as if faint with despair. “Call Prince
Arthur!” he ordered, and almost at that instant the young man appeared.

“Father!”

The king pointed a quivering finger at the mirror, and said huskily:

“Let not the sun go down! Let its light be white as at noon.”

“But, father, it has never been done before; it----”

“Alpha has never faced such danger. All our dream is about to end. Go!”

Without a word the young man hastened away, and it seemed scarcely a
moment before the sunlight streaming in at the oval glass roof changed
from green to white.

The king pushed Ornethelo impatiently aside; his eyes held a dull gleam
of despair, and he seemed to have grown ten years older. He touched a
button, and the awful scene at the pit gave place to a bright view
of the capitol, which was plainly seen from its crowded centre to its
scattering suburbs. The squads of “protectors” stood like armies ready
for battle, their rigid faces still toward the awful west.

“They are ready--the signal!” yelled the king, waving his hand, “the
signal!” Ornethelo caught his breath suddenly and tottered as he went
across the room, and touched a button on the wall. The king’s eyes were
glued on the mirrored view of the capitol, his trembling hands held out,
as if commanding silence. Then a deafening trumpet blast broke on the
ear. The masses of citizens pressed near the edges of the roofs and
close against the walls along the streets, as the protectors rushed into
the flying-machines. Another trumpet-blast, and away they flew, a long
black line, every instant growing smaller as it receded in the murky
distance. The princess, white and silent, led Thorndyke and Johnston
back to the balcony. The line of machines was now a mere thread in the
sky, but the ominous cloud in the west had increased, and fine sand and
ashes were added to the fall of soot.

“What was that?” gasped the princess. It was a low rumble like distant
thunder, and the balcony shook violently.

“An earthquake,” said Thorndyke. “I am really afraid there is not a
ghost of a chance for us; the water running into the fire is sure to
cause an eruption of some sort, and even a slight one would be likely to
enlarge the opening to the ocean.”

Johnston nodded knowingly as he looked into his friend’s face, but,
considering the presence of the princess, he said nothing.

“My brother, Prince Marentel, is the greatest man in our kingdom,” she
re marked. “He has taken enough explosives to remove a mountain.”

“How will he use them?” asked Thorndyke.

“I don’t know, but I fancy he will try to close the opening in some
way.”

The latter slowly shook his head. “I fear he will fail. The fall must be
as voluminous as Niagara by this time.”

“My father must have lost hope, or he would not have stopped the sun,”
 sighed the princess, and she cast a sad glance towards the west. The
rolling clouds had become more dense, and the rumbling and booming in
the distance was growing more frequent. A thin gray cloud passed before
the sun, and a dim shadow fell over the city.

“That is a natural cloud,” said Thorndyke; “it comes from the steam that
rises from the pit.”

“It is exactly like our rain clouds,” returned the princess; “but
it comes from the steam, as you say. But let us go into the Electric
Auditorium and hear the news. As soon as anything is done we will
hear of it there.” The others had no time to question her, for she was
hastening into the corridor outside. She piloted them down a flight of
stairs into a large circular room beneath the surface of the ground. It
was filled with seats like a modern theatre, and in the place where
the stage would have been, stood a mighty mirror over an hundred feet
square. She led them to a private box in front of the mirror. The room
was filled from the first row of chairs to the rear with a silent,
anxious crowd. In the massive frame of the mirror were numerous
bell-shaped trumpets like those on the ordinary phonograph, though much
larger.

“Watch the mirror,” whispered Bernardino as she sat down.

And at that instant the surface of the great glass began to glow like
the sky at dawn, and all the lights in the room went out. Then from the
trumpets in the frame came the loud ringing of musical bells.

“They are ready,” whispered Bernardino; “now watch and listen.”

The pink light on the mirror faded, and a life-like reflection
appeared--the reflection of a young man standing on a rock in bold
relief against a dark background of rugged, slabbering cliffs and the
forbidding mouths of caves.

“Waldmeer!” ejaculated the princess, and she relapsed into silence.

The young man held in his hand a cup-shaped instrument from which
extended a wire to the ground. He raised it to his lips, and instantly a
calm, deliberate voice came from the mirror, soft and low and yet loud,
enough to reach the most remote parts of the great room.

“The ocean,” began he, “is pouring into the ‘Volcano of the Dead’ in a
gradually increasing torrent. Prince Marentel hopes temporarily to delay
the crisis by partially turning the torrent away from the pit into the
lowlands of the country. For that purpose a portion of the endless wall
is being torn down, and Marentel’s forces are placing their explosives.
After this is done an attempt will be made to stop the original break.
There is, however, little hope. The prince has warned the king to be
prepared for the worst.”

At this point, the speaker turned as if startled toward the red glare
at his right. He quickly picked up another instrument attached to a wire
and put it to his ear. A look of horror changed his face as he turned
to the audience and began to speak:--“The opening in the wall is not
progressing rapidly. Workmen are drowning and the tunnel of the sun is
filling with water. It will be impossible for the sun to go through to
the east.”

Just then there was a far-away crash, and instantly the mirror was void.
There was now no sound except the low groans of women in the audience
and the subdued curses of maddened men. The silence was profound. Then
the mirror began to glow, and the image of another man took Waldmeer’s
place.

“It is the Mayor of Telmantio,” whispered the princess, “a place near
the western limits of Alpha.”

He held a like instrument to the one used by Waldmeer, and through
it spoke:--“Venus, one of the great stars, has been shaken from the
firmament. It fell in the suburbs of Telmantio, and many lives were
lost.”

That was all, and the figure vanished. Presently Waldmeer reappeared.
He seemed to be standing nearer the pit, for the entire background was
aflame; volumes of black smoke now and then hid him from view, and a
thick shower of ashes and small stones were falling round him. He
spoke, but his voice was drowned in a deafening explosion, and the
whole landscape about him seemed afire. In the semi-darkness hundreds of
protectors could be seen struggling in the rushing water, moving stones
and building a dam. Waldmeer again faced his far-off audience and
spoke:--“Prince Marentel has turned the course of the stream. All now
depends on the success or failure of his final test with explosives,
which will take place in about half an hour.”

“We ought to go outside again,” suggested Bernardino, as Waldmeer’s
image disappeared; “my father might want us.”

Seeing no one in the king’s apartment, they passed through it to the
balcony. Half the sky was now covered with mingled fog and smoke, and
the sun could be seen only now and then. A drizzling rain was falling--a
rain that brought down clots of ashes and soot. But this made no
difference to the throngs in the now muddy and slippery streets. They
stood shivering in damp and soiled clothing, their blearing eyes fixed
hopelessly on the lowering signs in the west. Johnston noticed a bent
figure crouched against a wall beneath them. It was Branasko.

“Who is it?” inquired the princess.

“Branasko, the companion of my adventures,” he replied.

“Call him to us,” she said eagerly, and the American went down to the
Alphian.

As they entered together, Branasko uncovered his dishevelled head and
bowed most humbly.

“You look tired and sick and hungry; have you eaten anything today?” she
asked.

“Not in two days,” he replied.

The princess called to a frightened maid who was wringing her hands in a
corridor.

“Give this man food and drink at once,” she ordered, and Branasko, with
a grateful bow and glance, withdrew. Johnston followed him to the door.

“Fear nothing,” he said. “If the danger passes we are safe; the king has
promised to pardon me, and he will do the same for you.”

“There is no hope for any of us,” replied Branasko grimly; “but I do not
want to die with this gnawing in my stomach; adieu.”

“If the worst comes, is there any chance for us to escape from here to
the outer world?” the Englishman was asking the princess when Johnston
turned back to them.

“For a few hundred, yes,--by the sub-water ships, but for all, no; and,
then, my father would not consent to rescue a part and not the whole of
his subjects. He would not try to save himself or any of his family.”

The clouds still covered the sun; but on the eastern sky its rays were
shining gloriously. Ever and anon there sounded from afar a low rumbling
as if the earth were swelling with heat.

Johnston left the two lovers together and went to the door of the
Electric Auditorium, and over the heads of the breathless crowd he
watched the great mirror. After a few moments Waldmeer appeared and
spoke:

“Prince Marentel is operating with great difficulty. A large quantity of
his explosives has been injured by water, but he hopes there is enough
left intact to serve his purpose. The final explosion will soon take
place. The greatest peril hangs over Alpha.”

Waldmeer’s reflection was becoming in-distinct, and sick at heart the
American elbowed his way through the muttering crowd into the corridor.
Here he met Branasko, and together they walked back to Thorndyke and the
princess, who were mutely watching the signs in the east. Just then the
sun slowly emerged from the cloud.

“Look!” cried Bernardino in horror. “The cloud is not moving; the
sun has not stopped! It is going down and we shall soon be in utter
darkness. Oh, it is awful--to die in this way!”

The king had just returned, and he over-heard her words. He came hastily
to the edge of the balcony, and gazed at the sun. The others held their
breath and waited. His face became more rigid; he swayed a little as he
turned to her.

“You are right, my daughter,” he groaned; “it is going down; the
cowardly dogs in the east have deserted their posts. It is going down!
It will sink into a tunnel filled with water, and the light of Alpha
will be extinguished forever. We are undone! Say your prayers, my
child, your prayers, I tell you, for an Infinite God is angry at our
pretensions!”

“Don’t despair, father,” and Bernardino put her arms gently round the
old man’s neck. “You understand the solar machinery; could you not stop
the sun?”

The eyes of the old man flashed. He seemed electrified as he drew
himself from her embrace and looked anxiously over the balustrade to a
flying-machine in the street below.

“I might reach the east in time,” he cried; “yes, you are right, I was
acting cowardly. The fastest air-ship in Alpha is ready, and Nanleon
can drive it to its utmost speed. If the worst comes, I shall see you no
more, good-bye!” He kissed her brow tenderly, and her eyes filled as
he hastened away. Down below they saw him spring lightly into the
gold-mounted car, and the next instant the graceful vessel rose above
the palace roof and sped like an arrow across the sky toward the east.

A faint cheer broke from the lips of the crowd which seemed suddenly to
take new hope from the king’s departure. Some of them waved their hats
and scarfs, and many watched the air-ship till it had disappeared in the
murky distance.

“He may not get there in time!” cried the princess; “it seems to be
going down faster than it ever did before, and he has a great distance
to go.”

The little party on the balcony were silent for a long time. Presently
Bernardino turned her tearful eyes to the face of Thorndyke.

“The smoke and steam do not seem so voluminous, do you think all will go
well?”

The Englishman slowly shook his head. “I don’t want to depress you more
than you are; but I think at such a time we ought to realize the worst.
It is true, the clouds are not so heavy, and the earth-quakes are less
frequent, but, unfortunately, it is owing to the fact that the volume of
water has been turned away from the pit into the tunnel. Be prepared for
the worst. If your father cannot reach the machinery in the east soon
enough, our light will go out; and, worse than that, if Prince Marentel
should fail in his next venture with explosives, all hope will be gone.”

“I have never desired to live so much as now,” she answered, inclining
with an air of tenderness toward him. “I never knew what it was to fear
death till--till you came to us.”

He made no reply. There was a lump in his throat and he could not trust
his voice to speech. Branasko and Johnston left them together to go into
the Electric Auditorium. They returned in great haste.

“The prince is ready for the explosion,” panted Johnston. “Thorndyke, old
man, this is simply awful! It is not like standing up to be shot at, or
being jerked through the clouds in a balloon. It seems to me that out
there is the endless space of infinity, and that all the material world
is coming to an end. My God! look at that hellish fire, the awful smoke
and that black sky! Oh, the blasphemy of a such a paltry imitation of
the handiwork of the Creator! We are damned! I say damned, and by a just
and angry God!”

“Don’t be a fool,” said Thorndyke, and he threw a warning glance at
Bernardino, who, with staring, distended eyes was listening to Johnston.

“No, he is right,” she said in a low tone. “I have never seen your
world, but I know my people must be woefully wrong. In your land they
say men teach things about Infinity and an eternal life for the soul;
and that one may prepare for that life by living pure, and in striving
to attain a high spiritual state. Oh, why have you not told me about
that? It is the one important thing. I have long wanted to know if my
soul will be safe at death, but I can learn nothing of my people. They
have always tried to rival God, and, in their mad pursuit of perfection
in science, they have been reduced to--this. That black cloud is the
frown of God, hose mad flames may burst forth at any moment and engulf
us.”

She uttered a low groan and hung her head as if in prayer. Johnston and
Thorndyke were awed to silence. Never had the Englishman loved her as at
that moment. She was no longer simply a beautiful human creature, but
a divinity, speaking truths from Heaven itself. He felt too unworthy to
stand in her presence, and yet his heart was aching to comfort her.

She raised her pallid face heavenward and extended her fair, fragile
hands toward the lowering sky and began to pray. “My Creator,” she said
reverently, childishly, “I have never come to Thee, but they say that
people far away from this dark land, under Thy own sun, moon and stars
do ask aid of Thee, and I, too, want Thy help. Forgive me and my people.
They have been sinful, and vain, and thoughtless, but let them
not perish in utter gloom. Forgive them, O thou Maker of all that
exists--thou Creator of pain that we may love joy, Creator of evil that
we may know good, turn not from us! We are but thoughtless children--and
Thy children--give us time to realize the awful error of our hollow
pretensions! Give them all now, at once, if they are to die, that spirit
which is awakened in me by the awful majesty of Thy anger! Hear me, O
God!” And with a sob she sank on her knees, clasped her hands and raised
them upward. Thorndyke tried to lift her up, but she shook her head and
continued her prayer in silence. A marked change had come over Branasko.
He looked at Johnston and Thorndyke in a strange, helpless way, and
then, in a corner of the balcony the begrimed and tattered man fell on
his knees. He knew not the meaning of prayer, but there was something
in the reverent attitude of the princess that drew his untutored being
toward his Maker. He covered his face with his hands and his shaggy head
sank to his knees.

Johnston hastened back into the Auditorium. Returning in a moment, he
found the Englishman tenderly lifting Bernardino from her knees and
Branasko still crouching in a corner.

“What is the news?” asked Thorndyke.

“Everything is ready for the explosion. The prince seems only waiting
because he dreads failure. The people in there are so frightened that
they cannot move from their seats.”

Just then Branasko raised a haggard face and looked appealingly at the
princess. She caught his eye.

“Fear nothing, good man,” she said; “the God of the Christians will not
harm us; we are safe in His hands. I felt it here in my heart when I
prayed to Him. Oh, why has my father and the other kings of Alpha not
taught us that grand simple truth! But before I die I want to leave this
dark pit of sin, and look out once into endless, world-filled space.”

A joyous flush came into the face of the Alphian. His fear had vanished.
She had promised him safety. He bowed worshipfully, but he spoke not,
for Bernardino was eagerly pointing to the sun.

“Look!” she cried gleefully, with the merry tremolo of a happy,
surprised child. “The sun is not moving. Father has been successful! It
is a good omen! God will save us!”

It was true; the sun was standing still. A deep silence was on the city.
The crowds in the street neither moved nor spoke. Without a murmur or
complaint they stood facing the frowning west. Suddenly the silence was
interrupted by a low volcanic rumble. The earth heaved, and rolled, and
far away in the suburbs of the city the spire of a public building fell
with a loud crash. A groan swept from mouth to mouth and then died away.

“The cloud is increasing rapidly,” said Thorndyke. “I can really see
little hope. I shall return in a moment.”

While he was gone Bernardino knelt and prayed. Again overcome with fear
Branasko crouched down in his corner. Another shudder and rumble from
the earth, another long moan from the people. Thorndyke came back. He
spoke to the princess:

“The dam built by Prince Marentel has been swept away. The ocean is
pouring into the internal fires. There is scarcely any hope now.”

Branasko groaned, but Bernardino’s face was aglow with celestial faith.
She shook her head.

“They will not be destroyed in this way,” she said; “they have had no
chance to know God.”

“It all depends on the explosion which may take place at any moment,”
 and Thorndyke took her into his arms and whispered into her ear, “I do
not care for myself; but I cannot bear to think of your suffering pain.”

She answered only by pressing his hand. The clouds were now rolling
upward in greater volume than ever. It was growing darker. The little
group on the balcony could now scarcely see the people below them. The
fall of damp ashes was resumed. The air had grown hot and close.

Boom! Boom! Boom! the streets of the city rose and fell with the
undulating motion of a swelling sea. Blacker and blacker grew the sky;
closer and closer the atmosphere; damper and damper became the fog;
thicker and thicker fell the wet sand and ashes.

“Perhaps we would be safer in the streets,” suggested Thorndyke, drawing
Bernardino closer into his arms, “the palace may fall on us.”

But the princess shook her head. “Father would not know where to find
me, I shall await him here.” Branasko had edged nearer to her. His eyes
were glued on her face and he hung on her words as if his fate were in
her hands. He had no regard for the opinions of the others.

“The explosion will soon take place now unless something has happened
contrary to the expectations of the prince,” said the Englishman.

Boom! Boom! kr-kr-kr-kr-boom! The noise seemed to shake the earth to
its centre. Now the far-away pit was belching forth fire and molten
lava rather than steam and smoke. The flames had spread out against the
sloping roof of the cavern, and seemed to extend for a mile along the
horizon. “They can do nothing in that heat,” exclaimed Johnston; “they
could not get near enough to the pit. Thorndyke, old fellow, I can’t see
a ghost of a chance. We might as well say good-bye.”

“Hush!” It was the voice of the princess. “I feel that we shall not be
lost, I say.” And as she spoke Branasko crept toward her and raised the
hem of her gown to his white lips. Something dark came between them and
the far-off glare. It was a flying-machine.

“It is father,” cried Bernardino, and she called out to him: “Father!
father! Here we are, waiting for you!” In a moment he was with them.

“All right in the east,” he said gloomily. “Baryonay is there. They
deserted him, but they returned when the flames went down. This is
awful, daughter; it means death! It means annihilation!”

She put her arms round his neck and drew his face close to hers. “No,
no,” she said earnestly; “I see with a new light--a new spiritual light.
There is mercy in the divine heart of Him that made the walls of our
little world and constructed countless other worlds. I have prayed for
mercy, and into my heart has come a sweet peace I never knew before. We
shall not be lost. He will give us time to give up our sinful life here
and seek Him.”

The old man quivered as with ague; he searched her face eagerly, drew
her spasmodically into his arms, and then sank to the floor, overcome
with exhaustion.

The roar in the west was increasing. Hot ashes, gravel and small stones
were falling on the roofs and the people. Now and then a cry of pain was
heard, but they would not seek the shelter of the buildings. If they had
to die they wanted to fall facing the enemy. Suddenly the king rose. He
looked to the west and groaned. Something told them that the explosion
was coming. Expectation, horrible suspense was in the air. There was a
mighty flare of light. The entire heavens were lighted from horizon to
horizon, and then the light went out.

“Oh, I thought it----” but the princess did not finish her sentence.

“The explosion,” said Thorndyke, “the sound will follow in a moment.”

“My God, have mercy on us!” cried the king. But his prayer was drowned
in a deafening sound. Bernardino had leaned into the arms of her
lover. “Don’t despair,” he said tenderly, “the prince may have been
successful.”

“I feel that he has,” she replied. “But, oh, it is dreadful!”

The crowds below seemed to understand that their fate depended on the
news that would reach them in a few minutes.

Boom! Boom! kr-kr-kr-kr-boom! There seemed to be no lessening of the
volcanic disturbance, and the earth groaned and rocked and quivered as
before.

“It is impossible to tell yet,” groaned the king. “Oh, God, save us;
give us a chance to escape this awful doom!”

Johnston bethought himself that he might learn something in the Electric
Auditorium and he went into it. It was empty and dark; not a soul was
there save himself. He was turning to leave when his eye was drawn to
the great mirror by a faint pink glow appearing upon it. He stood still,
a superstitious fear coming over him as he thought of being alone with
a possible messenger from the far-away scene of disaster. The light went
out tremblingly; then it flashed up again, and the American thought
he saw the face of Waldmeer. The light grew steadier, stronger. It was
Waldmeer, but he was submerged in smoke. Hark! he was speaking.

“Marentel is successful! Entrance closed temporarily, and will be
strengthened!”

Johnston rushed out to the balcony. “I have been to the Auditorium,” he
announced. “I have seen Waldmeer. He says the experiment was successful.
It is closed temporarily, and can be strengthened.”

The king grasped the hand of the American. “Thank God!” he ejaculated,
“if I can only save my people I shall desire nothing more.” The princess
moved toward him affectionately, but he put her aside and retired into
the palace.

“He will at once communicate with the people,” remarked Bernardino
hopefully, and she turned her face again toward the west. The red glare
was dying down, and the dense clouds in the sky were thinning. In
an hour the face of the sun broke through the smoke, and the
flying-machines of the protectors began to return.

That night the king caused the pink light of the “Ideal Dawn” to flood
the eastern sky, and, as before, he appeared in a circle of dazzling
light and addressed his subjects:

“All danger to life is over; but the ultimate fate of Alpha is sealed.
Prince Marentel has effectually closed the entrance of the ocean, but
the internal fires are gradually burning through the rocky bed of the
ocean. In a couple of years Alpha will be demolished. All our wealth
shall be equally distributed among you, and my ships shall transport you
to whatever destination you desire. Let there be no haste. Order shall
be preserved throughout.”

That was all. The king bowed and the picture faded from view. A deep
silence was over everything. The only light came from the stars and
from the moon. Then there was a sound like the wind passing over a vast
forest of dry-leaved trees--the people were returning to their homes.

“I should have thought they would greet the king’s announcement with a
cheer of joy,” said Thorndyke to the princess, as they returned to the
palace.

“They don’t know whether to weep or laugh,” she replied. “They love
Alpha, and the other world will be strange to most of them. As for
myself, now that I am to leave, I feel a few misgivings.”

“I shall see that you are perfectly happy,” he said tenderly. “You are
to be my wife. I shall always love you and care for you; you need have
no fears.”

And a moment later, with joyous tears and face aglow, she assured him
she had none.

THE END.





*** End of this LibraryBlog Digital Book "The Land of the Changing Sun" ***

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