Quivven now lived in the palace, so as to be near her father, but came to work regularly each day. Theoph the Grim interposed no objection to this, and, in fact, frequently accompanied his daughter to the laboratory. He loved to mess around the bottles and retorts, and lost much of the grimness when engaged in this childish meddlesomeness.
So every one was happy except Tipi the Steadfast and Att the Terrible.
Jud continued the operation of the brickyard, even though Cabot had no more need of bricks, for Jud planned to build himself a brick palace which would outshine even the palace of King Theoph.
Melting the platinum for the wires presented a problem, until Myles thought of electrolizing some ordinary water into its constituent hydrogen and oxygen, and then burning these two materials together in a double blow-pipe, much like that used in oxyacetylene welding.
But to do this he had to make batteries. To this end he already had sal ammoniac and jars. He needed carbon and zinc. For carbon he pressed charcoal into compact blocks. To extract zinc from the blend ore he made long cylindrical retorts of clay, with a long clay pipe for a vent. The ore, after being thoroughly roasted in the copper-roasting furnace to remove all sulphur, was ground, mixed with half its weight of powered charcoal, and then charged into the retorts, where it was baked. The result was to distill the pure zinc, which condensed on the walls of the tubes.
Cabot now at last had all the elements for his batteries, and so was able, by employing about seventy cells in multiple, to get the two volts, three hundred fifty amperes, necessary to electrolize the oxygen and hydrogen for melting his platinum.
The platinum proved to be quite free of iridium, and so was easily drawn into wires.
Needless to state, the distilling of alcohol in large quantities, ostensibly for the laboratory burners, but actually for Doggo’s airplane, was commenced as soon as they had blown their first glass retorts.
Myles was going strong!
One day, in the midst of all this technical progress, as Myles was passing through one of the streets of Vairkingi on some errand or other, and admiring the quaint and brightly colored wood carvings on the high walls which lined the way, his attention was arrested by the design over one of the gateways.
It was a crimson swastika within a crimson triangle, the insignia of the priests of the lost religion of Cupia, the priests who had befriended him in their hidden refuge of the Caves of Kar, when he was a fugitive during the dark days of his second war against the ant-men.
Could it be that the lost religion was also implanted uponthiscontinent? Myles had never discussed religion with Arkilu, or Jud, or Quivven, or Crota, or any of his Vairking friends. Somehow the subject had never come up. Full of curiosity, Cabot knocked in the door.
Immediately a small round aperture opened and a voice from within inquired “Whence come you?”
For reply, the earth-man gave one of the passwords of the Cupian religion. To his surprise, the gate swung open, and he was admitted into the presence of a long-robed priest, clad exactly like his friends of the Caves of Kar.
“What do you wish?” asked the guardian of the gate.
Having made his way so far, Myles decided to continue, on the analogy of the religion of his own continent. Accordingly, he boldly replied, “I wish to speak with the Holy Leader.”
“Very well,” said the guard; and closing the gate and barring it, he led Myles through many winding passages, to a door on which he knocked three times.
The knock was repeated from within, the door opened, and Myles entered to gaze upon a strangely familiar scene. The room was richly carved and colored. On three sides hung the stone lamps of the Vairkings. Around the walls sat a score or more of long-robed priests, some on the level and some on slightly raised platforms. On the highest platform of all, directly opposite the point where Cabot had entered, sat the only hooded figure in the chamber, quite evidently the leader of the faith.
Him the earth-man approached, and bowed low.
Whereat, there came the unexpected words: “Welcome to Vairkingi, Myles Cabot.”
Then the priest descended, took the visitor by the hand, and led him to a seat at his own left. A few minutes later, the assembly had been temporarily suspended, and Myles and his host were chatting together like old friends.
Myles told the venerable prelate the complete history of all his adventures on both continents of the planet Poros, not omitting to dwell with considerable detail upon the vicissitudes of the lost religion of Cupia. This interested the priest greatly, and he asked numerous questions in that connection.
“Strange! Strange!” he ruminated. “It is undoubtedly the same religion as ours. So there must at some time have been some connection between the two continents.”
“Yes, there must have been,” the earth-man assented, “for the written language of both Cupia and Vairkingi is the same. Yet the totally different flora and fauna of the two continents negatives this history.”
“Where did the Cupians originate, if you know?” the priest inquired.
“We do not know,” Myles replied, “but there are two conflicting legends. One is that the forerunners of the race came from across the boiling seas. The other is that they sprang, fully formed, from the soil. There is also a legend that creatures like me dwell beyond the boiling seas; andthislegend, at least, appears to be borne out by the existence of your Vairkings.”
“Strange! Still more strange!” the prelate declared. “For we have butonestory ofourorigin. The race of Vairkings descended from another world above the skies. Who knows but that we, like you, came from that place which you call the planet—Minos, I think, you said?”
After some further conversation, the conclave was called to order again, and Myles took this as the signal for his departure. He was given a warm invitation to return.
Truly, a new avenue of speculation had been opened up to him by his chance meeting with the Holy Leader. Myles firmly resolved to return again at the earliest opportunity. But, from this time on, events moved with such rapidity that never again did he enter the sacred precincts.
First, he was stumped by his radio tubes. How was he to make a vacuum-pump which would exhaust the air?
The solution, when it finally occurred to him, was absurdly simple; he utilized atmospheric pressure.
He made a glass tube thirty feet long, and sealed his grid, his plates and his lead-wires into one end, closing that end off hermetically. Then he fashioned a piston of waterproof cloth fiber so as to fit into the closed end, almost touching these elements and yet free to move away from them without tearing them. Then he filled the tube with water, and inverted it. But the water did not drop away to a height of about twenty-eight feet, as it would have done on Earth.
Of course not, for this was Venus—Venus of an atmospheric pressure practically equal to that of earth, holding the water up; and yet with a gravity much less than that of Earth, tending to pull, the water down!
But, by lengthning the pipe sufficiently, Cabot finally got the proper balance, the fiber piston was pulled down, and a partial vacuum, practically free of water-vapor had been created. He then sealed off the upper portion of the glass tube with his blow-torch, and had his radio triad.
For these radio tubes, the glass was made according to a special formula. Of this same glass, Cabot fashioned lenses for the goggles which he and Doggo planned to wear on their trip home across the boiling seas.
One of the constituents of this special glass is lead monoxide, commonly known as litharge. This gave the Radio Man some concern, until Doggo suggested melting lead in a rotating cylindrical iron drum with spiral ribs. By pumping cold air in one end of this drum, fine particles of litharge were driven out through the other, where they accumulated in a stationary container.
About this time the king and Jud began clamoring for results, so Cabot made a few electric lights with platinum filaments. And entirely apart from pacifying his two patrons it was well that he did this, for the speedy burning out of these lights showed him that he had a new problem to face, namely: the elimination of all traces of oxygen in his tubes. He got rid of considerable by placing tubes in a strong magnetic field while exhausting, but this was not quite enough.
It looked as though his experiments would have to end at this point; for with an immense quantity of alcohol completed, and with pyrex glass for their goggles, everything was all set for the conspirators to locate Doggo’s hidden plane and fly across the boiling seas to Cupia.
The Vairkings were by now sufficiently used to the huge ant-man and to his participation in Cabot’s scientific experiments, so that no objection would be raised to his accompanying the radio man on one of the latter’s expeditions in search of certain minerals which he believed could be found in the country.
Two carts, laden with tents, food and bedding, were taken along, and beneath these supplies he placed the alcohol and goggles. There was no need to conceal them, for none of the Vairkings, except Quivven, ever had any very distinct knowledge of what he was about, and to her he explained that the alcohol was for the purpose of loosening certain materials from the solid rocks, and that the goggles were to protect his and Doggo’s eyes from the fumes.
A squad of soldiers pulled the carts. Doggo had demurred at this, suggesting that the soldiers be left behind, and offering to pull them himself, but Myles pointed out how easily he could scatter the Vairkings when the time came, by threatening them with his “magic sling-shot” (i. e., rifle).
Early in the morning they set forth, just as the unseen rising sun began to tint the eastern sky with purple. When the time came to say farewell to Quivven Myles found to his surprise that his voice was positively choked with emotion.
“Good-by, Golden Flame,” he said. “Please wish me a safe journey.”
“Of course I do,” she said, “But why so sad? You sound as though you never expected to see me again.”
“One never can tell,” he replied.
“Your food has disagreed with you,” she bantered. “I feel confident that you will return. For have you not often quoted to me: ‘They cannot kill a Minorian?’ Run along now, and come back safely.”
Thus he left her, a smile on her face and a tear in his eye. He hated to deceive Quivven, who had been a good little pal, in spite of her occasional flare-ups of temper. He looked back and waved to her where she stood like a golden statue upon the city wall; it would be his last glimpse of a true friend. Then he set his face resolutely to the eastward.
Not only did he feel a pang at leaving Quivven, but he felt even more of a pang at leaving his radio-set half finished. The scientist always predominated in his makeup; and besides, like the good workman that he was, he hated an unfinished job.
But he realized that his radio project had been only a means to an end—the end being to get in touch with his friends and family in Cupia—and that this end was about to be accomplished more directly. Just think, to-morrow night he would be home, ready to do battle for his loved ones against the usurper Yuri! The thought thrilled him, and all regrets passed away.
Lilla! He was to see his beautiful dainty Lilla once more; and his baby son, Kew, rightful ruler of Cupia! He resolved that, once back with them again, he would never more leave them. Lilla had been right; his return to Earth had been a foolhardy venture; results had proved it. As Poblath, the Cupian philosopher, used to say, “The test of a plan is how it works out.”
Cabot was eager, even impatient, to see the ant-plane which was to carry him home. He was bubbling over with questions to ask his ant-man companion; the condition of the plane, its exact location, how well it had been concealed, and so forth. But his only means of communication with Doggo was in writing, and it would never do to delay the expedition for the purpose of indulging in a written conversation. So he merely fretted and fumed, and urged the Vairking pullers of the carts to greater speed.
But along toward evening a calm settled over him, a joyous calm. He was going home, going home! The words sang in his ears. He was going to Cupia, to baby Kew, and Princess Lilla. A nervous warmth flooded through his being, and tingled at his fingertips. He felt the strength to overcome any obstacles which might confront him. He was going home!
Just before sunset the party encamped on the outskirts of a small grove of trees, which Doggo indicated as the hiding-place of his plane and other supplies. It had already been agreed that they should not inspect the machine before morning for they did not wish to give even the slow brains of Vairking soldiers a chance to figure out their ulterior purpose, and perhaps to dispatch a runner to Vairkingi with a warning to Theoph and Jud.
So Myles was forced to possess his soul in patience, and await the dawn. To keep his mind off his troubles he sat with the furry warriors about their camp fire, and told them tales of Cupia and the planet Earth.
Never before, in their experience, had this strange furless leader of theirs been so graciously condescending or so sociable. It was an evening which they would long remember.
Finally they all turned in for the night. The earth-man slept fitfully, and dreamed of encounters in which, with his back to the wall, he fought with a wooden sword alone against Prince Yuri, and ant-men, and Vairkings, and Cupians, and whistling bees, in defense of Lilla and her son.
Yet such is the strange alchemy of dreams that sometimes Lilla’s face seemed to be covered with golden fur.
With the first red flush of morning Cabot and Doggo bestirred themselves, and informed their campmates that they intended to do a bit of prospecting before breakfast. Then they set out into the interior of the wood, the ant-man leading the way. At last they came to a small clearing and beyond it a thicket, which Doggo indicated with one paw as being the spot which they sought. There was to be the plane!
Parting the foliage, they looked inside. But the thicket was empty!
On the farther side the bushes had been recently chopped down, and thence there lay a wide swath of cut trees clear out of the woods. It was only too evident that the precious plane had been stolen!
There could be no doubt of it. Doggo’s plane was gone, and with it had vanished all hopes of a speedy return to Cupia. Sadly the two returned to camp, and gave directions to start back to Vairkingi.
But Myles Cabot was not a man to despair or he would have yielded to fate many times in the past during his radio adventures on the silver planet. Already, as the porters were loading the carts, his agile mind was busy seeking some way whereby to snatch victory from defeat.
So when the expedition was ready to start he led it around the woods until he picked up the trail of the stolen airship. Quite evidently the theft had not been made by ant-men, for they would haveflownthe machine away, upon clearing the woods. No, it had obviously been taken by either Roies or Vairkings, who had wheeled or dragged it away. If he and Doggo could follow its path, they might yet be able to locate and recover the stolen property.
The trail led north until it struck, at right angles, a broad and much-rutted road which ran from Vairkingi to the northeast territory of the Vairkings. And at this point the trail completely vanished.
Myles held a written conference with Doggo, at which it was decided to return at once to the city and make inquiries there as to the stolen plane. If no one there knew of it, Doggo was to be dispatched on a new expedition into the northeast territory, and in the meantime Cabot was to rush the completion of his radio set. So they turned to the left and took up the march to Vairkingi.
It was a tired and disgusted human who returned that evening to the quarters which he had never expected to set eyes on again. Myles Cabot gave himself up to a few moments of unrestrained grief.
As he sat thus a soft, sympathetic voice said: “Didn’t you succeed in finding that which you sought? I am so sorry! At least you came back safely to me.”
But the blandishments of little Quivven, his pal, failed to comfort him.
That evening when Jud returned from the brickyard, Myles sought an audience with him and demanded news of the plane. Said Myles: “This beast friend of mine came near here in a magic wagon which travels through the air. Possession of this magic wagon would mean much to Vairkingi in your wars, and especially if the beasts ever take it into their heads to attack you, as they undoubtedly will do sooner or later.
“Yesterday Doggo and I embarked on a secret expedition to bring this magic wagon as a surprise to you and Theoph. But we find that it has been stolen. We have traced it to the northeast road, and there the trail ends. It must be either in this city or in the northeast territory. Will you help me to find it?”
But Jud smiled a crafty smile, and said: “It is not in Vairkingi—of that I am certain. Nor will I send into the northeast territory to find it for you; for I well know that you would use it to return to your own land beyond the boiling seas. We wish you to stay with us and do wonders for us. We believe that we can make your lot among us a happy one.
“But remember that, although you are treated with great honors, you are nevertheless still my slave. Any attempt on your part to locate the magic wagon will be met with severe punishment, and an end will be put to your experiments. I have spoken.”
Myles Cabot met the other’s eye squarely. “You have spoken, Jud,” he said.
Myles was now convinced that Jud knew more about the missing plane than he was willing to admit; so the only thing to do was to lie low, bide his time, keep an ear out for news of the plane, and continue the manufacture of the radio set. Thus the earth-man ruminated as he walked slowly back to his quarters.
And then the linking of radio and airplanes in his mind gave him an idea. He had felt all along that he was doing the correct thing in building a radio set rather than in manufacturing firearms with which to attack the Formians, or in trying to fabricate an airplane for a flight across the boiling seas.
His intuition had been correct; his subconscious mind must have guided him to make the radioin order to phone Cupia for a plane to come over to Vairkingi and get him. Why hadn’t he realized this before? It gave him new heart.
With a laugh he reflected that this afterthought was pretty much like those so characteristic of the man whom he had just left. Jud the Excuse-Maker, always bungling, and always with a perfectly good excuse or alibi, thought up afterward to explain why he did something which, when he did it, was absolutely pointless. Myles had always looked down on the Vairking noble because of this failing.
But now what he found himself going through exactly the same mental processes, he began to wonder if perhaps Jud were not guided by a fairly high-grade intuition. Perhaps Jud’s afterthoughts and excuses were but the breaking through of a realization of some real forethoughts on the part of Jud’s subconscious mind. Myles wondered. He was still wondering when he fell asleep that night.
The next morning he plunged into his work with renewed vigor. He now had copper wire, copper plates, wood, mica, solder, platinum, glass, and batteries—everything that he needed for his radio set except a better vacuum for his tubes; but without that he was as far from success as when he started.
Of course he knew what he needed—magnesium. But it was one thing to step into a drug store on the earth, or into a chemical laboratory in Cupia, and take magnesium off the shelves, and quite another matter to pick this elusive element out of thin air in Vairkingi.
Nevertheless, in spite of this lack, Myles kept on working. He wound his inductances, transformers, earphones, and rheostats. He assembled his variable condensers and microphones. He fashioned his sockets and lamp bases. He strung his antennae. He wired up his baseboard and panel.
Small sets were installed in Quivven’s rooms at the palace, at Jud’s house, and at the brickyard. Each of these was equipped with a transformer-coupling for Doggo’s antennae, as well as with mouthpieces for the others, so that now at last oral conversation was possible with his Formian friend. Later he would prepare a portable head-set such as he had worn in Cupia.
Laboratory experiments demonstrated the success of his sets in everything except durability of tubes. Yet in spite of this drawback he was able to communicate across his laboratory, and even with Jud’s house, and under favorable conditions with Quivven at the palace by using a cold-tube hookup. But this was not powerful enough to send as far as the brickyard, let alone Cupia.
At this juncture there appeared one morning at his gate a Vairking soldier in leather tunic and helmet, requesting entrance with important secret news. Myles grudgingly left his work-bench and gave audience. The fellow had a strangely familiar appearance and smiled in a quizzical manner; yet Myles could not place him.
“Who are you?” Myles asked.
“Do you not know me?” the other asked in reply.
“No.”
The soldier doffed his leather cap. “Do you know me now?”
“No.”
“A life for a life?”
“Now I know you!” Cabot exclaimed. “You are Otto the Bold, son of Grod the Silent, who is King of the Roies. To paraphrase one of the proverbs of my own country, ‘A face that is familiar in Sur is oft a stranger in Vairkingi.’ I did not recognize you away from the surroundings in which we met. What good fortune brings you here?”
“Notgoodfortune, butbad,” the Roy replied. “It is true that Grod, my father, is our king, but it is also true that Att the Terrible likewise claims the kingship. Att loves Arkilu, and is even at this moment on the march against Vairkingi with the largest army of Roies ever gathered.”
Myles smiled. “We are grateful for the information,” he said. “With this forewarning we are secure against attack.”
“If you will pardon me,” Otto continued, “I think that you arenotsecure. For one of your own Vairkings, Tipi by name, marches with Att. Att has promised Tipi the glorious golden Quivven in return for Tipi’s support. And Tipi has many partisans within this city.”
Myles continued to smile. “We can deal with traitors,” he asserted smugly. “There are many lamp-posts in our city.”
But Otto kept on: “Sur has fallen.”
“What!” the earth-man shouted, at last shocked out of his complacency. “The rock-bound impregnable fortress of Sur fallen? Impossible!”
“Not impossible to those who travel through the skies and drop black stones which fly to pieces with a loud noise,” Otto calmly replied. “The beasts of the south have made alliance with Att the Terrible, and Tipi the Steadfast, and are marching with them. Good Builder! They are upon us even now. Quick, the beasts enter this very room. Come, draw, defend yourself!”
Wheeling quickly, Cabot confronted Doggo standing in the doorway. Much relieved, he explained to Otto who this newcomer was; then, seizing a pad and a lead stylus of his own manufacture, he hurriedly sketched the situation to his Formian friend.
In reply Doggo wrote: “At last I have magnesium ore. Some soldiers brought it in, attracted by its pretty red color. There is no time to be lost. To the laboratory. You must complete our set and summon aid from Cupia. Meanwhile I will get Jud on the air, and call him here for a conference. We have no time to wait upon him, or even Theoph, in this emergency.”
Myles read the message aloud to Otto.
“It is well,” the latter commented. “Now, if you will excuse me, I must be running along. My disguise as a Vairking soldier will get me safely out of your city, and I must join my father, who is planning to counter-attack, if a fit opportunity presents itself. Till we meet again.”
“Till we meet again, in this life or beyond the waves,” the earth-man replied. “And may the Builder bless you for your help this day.” Then he rushed to the laboratory.
Doggo was already tuning the set. “Jud is not at home,” he wrote. “Shall I waste a tube on the brickyard?”
“No,” Myles signified with a shake of his head; then seizing the pad and stylus again, he wrote: “I will try and get Jud. You meanwhile attempt to extract magnesium from this piece of carnallite.”
The ant-man knew exactly how to proceed. Grinding the ore, he mixed it with salt and melted the mass in an iron pot, which he connected electrically with the carbon terminal of a line of electric batteries. In the boiling pot he placed a copper plate connected with the zinc elements of his cells.
By the time the earth-man returned from calling Jud on the radio, a coating of pure magnesium had begun to form on the copper anode.
An hour or so later he scraped off his first yield of the precious metal, the final necessity of his projected radio set.
At this stage Jud appeared. “Pardon the delay,” he started to explain. “You see, I—”
But Myles cut him short with: “Never mind explanations now. It is enough that you are here. Sur has fallen. The beasts of the south and Att the Terrible are on the warpath. They seek to rob you of your Arkilu. With their aerial wagons they will drop magic rocks upon this city and destroy it. Give Doggo back his plane, and he will try to combat them.”
But Jud shook his head. “You would merely escape,” he replied, “and then we would be worse off than now.”
“Then you admit that you know the whereabouts of Doggo’s plane?” Myles eagerly asked.
“Not at all, not at all,” the Vairking suavely replied. “I was merely stating that, even if I knew where this ‘plane,’ as you call it, is—”
“For Builder’s sake, man!” Cabot cut in. “This is no time to quibble over words! Give us the plane, if you would save Theoph, yourself, and Arkilu.”
“It’s hardly necessary,” Jud asserted, unruffled. “Don’t get so excited! If Att wants Arkilu, he certainly won’t drop things on the palace. And we can defend the palace against all the Roies in Vairkingi.”
“But not against magic slingshots,” replied the earth-man.
“Perhaps not,” the noble said with a crafty smile; “but we shall see. Now I go to prepare the defense. You are at liberty to come with us, if you will, or putter around your tubes if you had rather. Good-by.”
“Shift for yourselves then!” Myles shouted after him, and frantically resumed his work. His attempt to get the plane by stratagem had failed. Perhaps Jud did not know anything about the plane after all. It would be typical of him.
Myles had plenty of sets of grids, plates, and filaments all prepared. Also plenty of long tubes of pyrex glass. All that remained necessary was to coat the platinum elements with magnesium, fuse them into the tube, exhaust the air by the water method as before, seal the tube, and his radio set would be complete.
“Where is Quivven?” he wrote to Doggo. “She ought to be here helping with this.”
“On her way from the palace,” the ant-man replied. “I radio-phoned her there.”
Presently she entered, and jauntily inquired what all the excitement was about. Myles explained as briefly as possible.
Her only answer was to shrug her golden shoulders and remark, “Tipi is a little fool. He can have me if he can get me.”
Then she took her seat at the workbench.
After a while she inquired, “Why the rush with the radio set, when Vairkingi is in peril?”
Myles replied, “Our only hope now is to get Cupia on the air, and persuade my followers there to send across the boiling seas enough aerial wagons to defeat the beasts of the south, or ‘Formians,’ as we call them.”
“And will you talk with your Lilla?” she asked innocently.
“Yes, if the Builder wills,” he eagerly and reverently replied.
To his surprise, Quivven jumped to her feet with flashing eyes, and, seizing a small iron anvil from the workbench, she held it over the precious pile of platinum elements.
“And if I drop this anvil, you willnottalk to her. Is not that so?”
Myles, horrified, sat rooted to his seat, unable to move.
But the flaming Quivven did not drop the anvil on the precious tube elements. Instead she flung it from her to the floor and sank limply into her seat, her golden head on her arms on the workbench.
“I couldn’t do it,” she moaned between sobs, “for I too know what it is to love. Talk to her, Myles, and I will help you.”
He gasped with relief. “You wouldn’t spoil all our days and days of labor, I am sure,” he said. “What was the matter? I don’t understand you.”
“Youwouldn’t,” was her reply, as she shook herself together and resumed work.
After a while one of the soldiers attached to the laboratory brought in word that the Roies and Formians were attacking the walls, and that “planes” were sailing around in the sky overhead. Cabot gave word to mass his men to defend the laboratory at all costs and went on working.
One by one the tubes were completed and tested.
From time to time Quivven would step into the yard, glance at the sky, and then report back to Myles. The Formian planes were scouting low, but were not dropping bombs. Jud had apparently been right in one thing—that the beasts would not risk injuring the expected prizes of war, namely Arkilu and Quivven.
From time to time runners brought word of the fighting at the outer wall of the city. It would have been an easy matter for the ant-men to bomb the gates, and thus let in their Roy allies, but evidently they were playing safe even there. At last, however, word came that traitors—presumably friends of Tipi—had opened one of the gates, and that the enemy was now within the city.
Still Myles worked steadily on.
Suddenly Quivven returned from one of her scouting trips in the yard with the cry, “One of the air wagons has seen me, and is coming down!”
At that the Radio Man permitted himself to leave his bench for a few moments and go to the door. True, the plane was hovering down, eagerly awaited by a score or so of Cabot’s Vairking soldiers armed with swords, spears and bows. As the Formians came within bowshot they were met with a shower of arrows, most of which, however, glanced harmlessly off the metallic bottom of the fuselage.
The ant-men at once retaliated with a shower of bullets. Two Vairkings dropped to the ground, and the others frantically rushed to cover within the buildings, forcing back Myles and his two companions, as the fugitives crowded through the door.
“Where isyourmagic slingshot?” one of them taunted him as they swept by.
The earth-man shook himself and passed the back of one hand across his tired brow, then hurried to his living room. Seizing his rifle, he cautiously approached one of the slit windows which overlooked the yard, and peeked out. The plane was on the ground. Four ants were disembarking.
Here at last was a chance to secure transportation!
Myles opened fire.
The Formians were taken completely by surprise. Oh, how it did Cabot’s heart good to see those ancient enemies drop and squirm as he pumped lead into them! They made no attempt to return his fire, but scuttled toward their beached plane.
Only one of them reached it; but one was enough to deprive the earth-man of his booty. Up shot the craft, followed by a parting bullet from Myles. Then he proceeded to the yard once more. His furry soldiers, brave now that all danger was over, were already there before him, putting an end to the three wounded ant-men, with swords and spears.
A strong and pungent odor filled the air. Myles sniffed. It was alcohol in large quantities. The plane could not last long, for he had punctured its fuel tank.
Each of the dead enemies had been fully armed, so that, although Myles failed in his plan to secure the airship, the encounter had at least netted him three rifles and three bandoleers of cartridges. These he bestowed on Doggo, Quivven, and the captain of his guards, saying, “You three, with four or five others, had better go at once to Jud’s compound before the fighting reaches here; for, now that the Formians have located Quivven, they are sure to attack again, sooner or later.”
But the golden-furred princess remonstrated with him: “Let us stay together, fight together, and, if need be, die together.”
“For the Builder’s sake, run along,” he replied testily. “We are wasting valuable time. I will join you if the fighting gets too thick hereabouts.”
“But how can you?”
“By the back way which you taught me.”
“But you need the help of Doggo and myself.”
“No longer, for the set is complete. All that remains to be done is to tune in and either get Cupia on the air or not. Now, as you are my true friends, please run along!”
So, with a shrug and a pout; she left him. And with her went Doggo, and the captain, and five of the guard. Much relieved, the Radio Man returned to his workbench. Although the move truly was wise for the safety of Quivven, the real motive which actuated Myles was a desire to have her absent, when and if he should talk to his Lilla.
He leaned his rifle against the bench, hung the bandoleer handily near by, and set to work. A few more connections and his hookup was complete. He surveyed the assembled set with a great deal of satisfaction; for, although it really was a means to an end, yet it was a considerable end in itself after all, as any radio fan can appreciate.
Once more Myles Standish Cabot, electrical engineer, had demonstrated his premiership on two worlds. He had made a complete radio set out of basic natural elements, without the assistance of a single previously fabricated tool, or material! It was an unbelievable feat. Yet it had been completed successfully.
With trembling hands, he adjusted the controls, and listened. Gradually he tuned in a station. It seemed a nearby station.
A voice was saying: “We could not report before, O master, for we have only just repaired the set which this Cabot wrecked. The Minorian lied when he told you that he had affairs well in hand, for even at that moment he was a fugitive.
“He is now with the furry Cupians who live to the north of New Formia. Today our forces are attacking their city. It is only a matter of a few parths before he will be in our hands. I have spoken, and shall now stand by to receive.”
This was the supreme test. Could Myles Cabot hear the reply? Adjusting his set to the extreme limit of its sensitivity, he waited, his hands on the wave-length dials.
Faintly but distinctly came the answer in the well-known voice of Yuri the usurper: “You have done well. Now I will hand the antenna-phones to the Princess Lilla, and I wish you to repeat to her what you have just told me, so that she may hear it with her own antennae and believe.”
A pause and then Cabot heard the ant-man stationed at the shack on the mountains near Yuriana recount the tale of Doggo’s abortive revolution and flight, of Cabot’s wrecking the radio set and disappearing, of the Formian alliance with Att the Terrible, of the fall of Sur, and of the attack on Vairkingi, ending with the words which he had already caught.
As he listened to this narration, the earth-man was rapidly making up his mind what to do, and, as soon as the ant-man signed off, Cabot cut in with: “Lilla, dearest, do not show any sign of surprise, but listen intently, as though the Formian were still speaking. This is your own Myles. I am sending from a station which I have only just completed after many sangths of intensive work.
“It is true that the Formians are now attacking our city but they cannot win. Sur fell because we were taken by surprise, but we were warned in time to defend Vairkingi. Already I, myself, have driven off one plane and killed three Formians.
“As yet I have been unable to secure an airship, or I should have flown back to you. Please get in touch with Toron, or some other of my friends, and persuade them to fly across the boiling seas and bring me back.
“Yuri has made it twice, and ‘what man has done, that can man do.’ Now I am about to finish. When I sign off, please request Yuri for permission to talk to the Formian at Yuriana, to ask him some questions. Then tell me as much as you can of yourself, our baby, and the situation in Cupia, before Yuri shuts you off. I have spoken, dearest.”
And Myles stood by to receive.
With what a thrill did he hear his own Lilla’s voice answer: “Oh, Formian, I have Prince Yuri’s permission to speak to you. You may answer what I ask you, and reply to what I tell you, but he himself will receive, lest I hear something which I ought not. This leads me to believe that affairs are not so bad with Cabot as you report.”
“She is doing fine,” Myles remarked to himself, admiringly. “So far, Yuri will not suspect that she is talking to me.”
Lilla’s voice continued: “You and the other Formians may be interested to know that Prince Yuri is in complete control here. Baby Kew and I are well, and are being respectfully treated by Prince Yuri as his guests in the palace at Kuana. He has promised me that if I will marry him, Kew can have the succession after his death. And this I might have accepted for the baby’s sake, but now that I know that you still live, this cannot be.”
“She has made a slip,” Cabot moaned.
Evidently she realized it herself, for her voice hurried on: “You see, the whistling bees—”
Then Yuri’s voice cut in abruptly with: “Congratulations, Cabot. I don’t see how you did it. Your ex-wife would have gotten across a lot more information to you if she hadn’t inadvertently let me know to whom she was talking by her careless use of the word ‘you’. I don’t know what you said to her, but I shall be on my guard. No more radio for the Princess Lilla, until my henchmen in New Formia report your death, which I hope will be soon. Good-by, you cursed spot of sunshine. Yuri, king of Cupia, signing off for the night.”
So that was that. Myles switched off the set, and sat submerged in thought. Lilla and his baby were safe. He doubted not that she would sooner or later find means to send him a plane. He had given Yuri cause to doubt the glorious story told by the Formian radio operator. The new set had fulfilled its mission.
But how had Yuri succeeded in climbing into power again in Cupia, nine-tenths of the inhabitants of which were loyal to Princess Lilla and the baby king?
Then Myles remembered her closing words: “The whistling bees—” It was as little Jacqueline Farley had prophesied on her father’s New England farm, during Cabot’s brief revisit to the earth. Cabot had stated: “There can be no peace on any continent which is inhabited by more than one race of intelligent beings”; whereat little Jacqueline had pointed out that the whistling bees were intelligent beings.
Doubtless, Yuri had stirred up trouble between the bees and their Cupian allies, and had ridden to the throne on the crest of this trouble. Portheris, king of the bees, had undoubtedly been deposed; for he was too loyal to Myles to stand for this.
The earth-man’s reverie was rudely interrupted at this point by one of his soldiers who rushed into the laboratory shouting: “Sir, there is fighting in your very yard!”
Cabot slipped the bandoleer over his shoulders, adjusted the straps, picked up his rifle, and hurried to the door. In the yard, his guards were struggling in hand-to-hand combat with a superior force of Roies.
He could tell them apart, not only by the contrast between the fine features of his own men and apelike faces of the intruders, but more easily by the contrast between the leather tunics of the Vairkings and the nakedness of the Roies. So, standing calmly in the doorway, Myles began picking off the enemy, one by one, with his rifle. It was too easy; almost like trap-shooting.
But it didn’t last long, for the Roies soon learned what was up, and, breaking away from their opponents, crowded out through the gate, followed by a shower of missiles and maledictions.
Cabot’s Vairkings were for following, but their master peremptorily called them back, and directed them to barricade the laboratory. It was well that he did so, for presently the heads of the enemy began to appear above the top of the fence. Evidently they had built a platform in the street.
Soon arrows and pebbles began to fly at the windows of the house. The Vairkings replied with a volley, but Cabot cautioned them to conserve their ammunition, and watch him pick off with his rifle, one by one, the heads which showed themselves above the paling.
This soon ceased to be interesting. So, giving the rifle and bandoleer to one of the more intelligent of his men, and instructing them to hold the laboratory at all costs, the earth-man set out, sword in hand, by the back way to rejoin Doggo and Quivven.
The alleys which he threaded were deserted. He reached the rear of Jud’s compound without event, and passed in to one of the inclosures through a small and well concealed gate in the face of the wall. Quivven had pointed this route out to him before, but never had he traversed it farther than this point. He looked cautiously around him. Then he rubbed his eyes, and looked again! He could hardly believe his senses!
There stood a Formian airplane in apparently perfect condition. Approaching it gingerly with drawn sword, he circled it carefully to make sure that it contained no enemies. But it was deserted. A hasty inspection disclosed that everything was in working order, except that the fuel tank was empty.
Probably then, this was the plane at which he had fired. But no, for this plane did not evensmellof alcohol. The tank had evidently been dry for some time, and there was no sign of any bullet hole in it. Gradually the fact dawned on him that this was Doggo’s plane, which Jud had concealed from them for so long. He must reach Doggo and tell him.