LEROY YERXA

BRIDGE OF BANISHMENT

RGL e-Book Cover 2018^©

First published in Amazing Stories, May 1943

This e-book edition: Roy Glashan's Library, 2018
Version Date: 2018-10-17
Produced by Matthias Kaether and Roy Glashan

The text of this book is in the public domain in Australia.
All original content added by RGL is protected by copyright.

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Amazing Stories, May 1943, with "Bridge of Banishment"

No one knew what happened to those who walked
the bridge. The Japs used it for executions!

IT was a curious, overwrought group that gathered at the end of the footbridge. Three Japanese army officers stood in close conference. A half-dozen Chinese civilians had withdrawn to the safety of the jungle that grew close to the trail.

"Rick" O'Conner, puzzled over the proceedings, sat on a log behind the officers. He removed his pith helmet and rubbed lean fingers through a mop of damp, red hair. He had come alone down the trail from the Red Cross hospital to see this.

A figure clad only in a worn gunny sack tied at the waist, swung down the trail. Behind him came two soldiers with leveled bayonets. "Rick" O'Conner straightened his shoulders a bit and watched the prisoner.

He studied the man closely, and his fingers tightened on the rim of the helmet. The midday sun was hot and the jungle sent up a steaming, putrid odor of rotting vegetation.

The prisoner was a tall, bronzed Burmese. The inscrutable face and high head told O'Conner at once that here was a strong man. He approached the bridge and looked straight ahead toward the opposite bank. Below, the river foamed and roared between the cliffs of the gorge.

The officers were ill at ease. One of them looked apprehensively at the others and stepped forward. He spoke half- heartedly, as though to make a last gesture of authority. His words were English, harsh and badly garbled.

"Aben Dagh, you are prepared to face the punishment your crime demands?"

Aben Dagh said nothing, but his head dipped forward slightly in acknowledgement.

"Then—march."

"Rick" O'Conner came to his feet automatically. This was fantastic. Here was a Burmese condemned to walk a bridge for murder. The whole thing must be some sort of hoax.

He stared across the chasm. The footbridge swayed slightly in the wind. It was constructed entirely of jungle vines and the bark of trees. Green creepers had grown its length, strengthening the bridge for God knew how many years. They hung downward, waving like green snakes over the canyon.

His eyes returned to Aben Dagh. Grasping the vines firmly, the condemned man stepped onto the swaying span. His head bent, he hesitated, then walked swiftly toward the opposite bank.

A quarter of the way across, he stopped, glanced back. No sound disturbed the day but the steady rumble of the river below. O'Conner couldn't take his eyes away from the figure.

For a second, Aben Dagh's eyes caught his. Then, facing the opposite side of the gorge he went forward at a slow pace. The bridge swayed back and forth under his tread. In the exact center of the span, the man seemed to lose his balance. No cry escaped his lips as he fell forward on one knee. Faltering, he grasped wildly for the vines and pitched forward on his face.

One moment the Burmese was there in plain sight, trying to grab something solid. The next he was gone. Faded as surely as a dream fades with the coming of the day.

DAUNA WELLS, slim and white in the uniform of the American Red Cross, stood with blazing eyes before the short, burly figure of General Timosha. Though surrounded by enemies in a hostile section, she was more angry than afraid. Behind her, the rugged block walls of the Yunan Hospital towered against the sandy hills.

"I've asked you to stay away from the hospital," she said. "When you took over this sector there were only five of us Americans here. We promised to treat your men as well as the Chinese if you would leave us alone." Her lips tightened. "That meant all of us. Personally, I hate you like the animal you are. I'd rather die than have you break one word of that promise."

General Timosha was a small man but a smart one. He knew that from this woman he must accept insults, at least for the present. The Japanese High Command had sent him here with three thousand men and no medical equipment, to occupy the town. That they remained in good health was pertinent. Until these pig Americans had served their purpose, he must comply with their treaty. After that?

Timosha shrugged his shoulders.

"I respect your words." His dark angry little face, slightly squinted narrow eyes gave away his true thoughts. "But—I urge you to be more friendly."

A shudder passed through Dauna Wells' body and she turned her back on the diminutive Jap.

"For the time being, I prefer the company of my own kind," she answered coldly. "Please don't trouble me again or..."

Timosha's expression was not one of pleasure.

"...or—what?"

Wordlessly, Dauna opened the screen door that led to the small hallway and went in. The screen slammed behind her. Timosha wheeled angrily and walked down the dusty street.

DOCTOR WALTER NOSHAN rolled down his white sleeves and removed the short surgical apron. He met his superior, Doctor Marshall Wells, as the older man came from the washroom.

"That one will never pull through," he said with a shudder, drawing a tweed coat over his white shirt. "Too much dirt in the wound."

Wells nodded his gray head slowly. Marshall Wells was perhaps fifty, tall (in contrast to the short, swarthy-skinned Noshan) and sparsely built. His jaw reminded one of solid granite and deep blue eyes were youthful in spite of the pain they had seen.

"Noshan," he said suddenly, still fumbling with his surgical cloak. "How long can we hold out here?"

"As long as our drugs and nerves hold out," Noshan said quickly. "The Japs won't touch the hospital as long as their own health depends on us. Later—God knows." He shrugged.

Wells sat down on the edge of a wicker chair and picking up a fan, rotated it slowly before his face.

"As we were cutting into that poor chap today," he said, "I thought how easy it would be to let the knife slip a fraction of an inch."

Noshan said nothing.

"Without us," Wells went on, "and the fever coming on soon, the great Timosha would have hell to pay."

Noshan walked to the door, hesitated and turned about.

"Except for Dauna," his voice was low.

A sigh escaped Wells' lips.

"That's the whole damned trouble," he admitted. "The boys could fight their way out. Dauna wouldn't have a chance."

"We've faced this thing for six months now," Noshan said. "Better try and stick it out to the end. The Chinese are in Kweiyang. They may manage to break through."

Wells chuckled dryly.

"And when they get here, the Japs will calmly march us all over the bridge. A lot of good they'll do us, once Timosha decides we're useless."

"TEX" WALLACE, and "Gab" Harnett had one thing in common. What they lacked in medical knowledge they made up as good company to each other. Collectively, "Rick" O'Conner, "Tex" and "Gab" were known as the eightballs.

"Tex" characterized the term for O'Conner one night at the Royal Hotel in Manila. The three of them had just knocked hell out of half of the hotel's population. It had been a great party, built on too many bottles and a blonde with a temper. When the mêlée calmed down, "Tex" had dragged himself to the bar where "Rick" and "Gab" were already deep in a bottle. Raising himself to full height, he had proposed a toast.

"Here's to the eightballs; a name for three guys who are plenty tough!"

Now, comfortably bogged down in the hospital kitchen, Tex and Gab gnawed chicken bones and waited for Rick O'Conner to return

Gab Harnett weighed two hundred in the raw. His face was flabby with fat, but the remainder of his body turned every bit of food into muscle. He drawled when he talked.

"Trouble with Rick," Gab said dolefully. "He always thinks we're kidding him. Wait till he sees that crazy bridge in action. I've seen a hundred slant-eyes go across that mess of swaying shrubbery and none of them came back."

Tex looked out through the fly-covered screen and across the dusty compound. Rick O'Conner was just coming from the trail where it entered the forest.

"Speak of the devil..."

O'Conner came in slowly and seated himself in one corner. The room was silent but for the buzzing army of flies still trying to invade the questionably clean kitchen.

"Well," Tex asked, "do you believe it now?"

O'Conner still stared at the floor. He nodded his head.

"Then pay up," Gab broke in. "Tex and me celebrated while you were gone. Had one American chicken and we hated for old Timosha to find it."

"You don't deserve one fin of my hard earned dough," Rick reached into his pocket. "Fine pals you are, eating the last American chow we'll see for weeks. Or—forever--"

"Cut it." Gab said sharply. "You been hanging black curtains for a month now. Timosha needs us until he gets reinforcements and supplies. He ain't gonna murder his own saviors, or somethin'."

"That's the point," Tex insisted.

"Burma is full of Japs. If it wasn't for those attacks along the border, he'd a' had his men and supplies weeks ago."

Rick O'Conner raided the ice box and settled down with a chunk of cold beef. The compound was empty and deserted. The sun climbed high and hot against the cloudless sky.

"Rick," Gab asked slowly. "What's burning? You didn't get sick down there?"

O'Conner straightened up. He licked his fingers after the last bite of beef and wiped them on a handkerchief.

"That prisoner, Aben Dagh. Who was he?"

"Burmese," Tex said. "The Japs captured him while trying to sneak up on a Jap encampment."

"He had an odd look," Rick confessed. "Unless I'd seen him walk straight into nothingness, I'd have sworn he wasn't afraid of crossing that bridge."

Gab's breath sucked in noisily. He started to say something, and stopped, mouth open.

"Go on," O'Conner prompted. "What's burning you?"

"What you said," Gab whispered. "Look, I heard something funny last night. I thought I wouldn't say anything, but now I gotta."

His companions were silent.

"I was peekin' around for a pint of whisky after dark last night. I ran nose on to a couple of Chinks over by the hotel. They were talking about Aben Dagh."

O'Conner leaned forward.

"Go on."

"I can't make out much of that talk they throw around," Gab admitted, "but this I'm sure of. They said the prisoner was condemned and they seemed to think it was a joke. They talked about the bridge, but they had another name for it."

"We're waiting." Tex swung his long legs from the table and stood up. "They called it the bridge of escape."

A QUICK sigh escaped O'Conner's lips. Tex went to the door and pushed it open and battled a large fly outside. Then he closed the door again and sat down.

"You've got something on your mind," he said to O'Conner. "Ever since you came back that look of mystery has encompassed your stern mug. Give—will you?"

O'Conner stared at him as though looking straight through the Texan.

"I been thinking a lot about Aben Dagh," he confessed. "The Japs are smart enough to know that the bridge is a quick, easy way to get rid of their prisoners They don't stop to figure what happens to them."

"So?"

O'Conner arose, tossed a bit of bone into the garbage can and strode up and down the room. As he walked, he started to talk again, as though thinking as he moved.

"I'm crazy," he admitted. "The sun and the Japs have got me off stride. But..."

"But what?" Tex asked.

O'Conner stopped suddenly and faced the pair almost fiercely.

"I think that Aben Dagh is no more dead at this moment than you or I. I've got an idea that bridge is a manner of escape. Maybe it's not pleasant, but at least the Chinese don't seem to fear it much."

"Then why doesn't every Chink in the place cross the bridge," Gab faltered. "If it's as easy as that."

O'Conner grunted.

"Try a harder one on me," he asked. "I've thought this thing out carefully. If the Chinese sit tight, they are safe for the time being. When the Japs get rid of a man, instead of shooting him, they send him across the bridge. They are superstitious enough to believe that he walks to his death. The Chinese are biding their time. Until they give the bridge away, their countrymen are safe from the firing squad. Does it make sense?"

"It does," Tex Wallace agreed. "It makes sense and it presents some nice ideas."

O'Conner cocked his helmet on one side of his head and opened the door.

"That's what I thought," he said. "If you boys hear a strange voice talking from the side of the bed one of these nights, don't mistake it for Grandma's ghost. I've an idea that may put old Timosha in the grave of his ancestors."

THE three eightballs walked past the hospital together. Dauna Wells waved to them from the second story. Gab touched the tips of his fingers to his lips and blew her an airy kiss. Dauna smiled and went on with her work.

The village lay in a dry, dusty valley below the hospital. Jap planes had tore into it with unholy fury, reducing the buildings to rubble. The modern, new hospital, an irritating eyesore to the Japs, still stood protected and safe atop the hill. No power of the Red Cross made it thus. Only Timosha and his wish to keep his troops alive and healthy.

O'Conner and his companions crossed the red sand above the building and went quickly down into the small ravine. It was deep and well hidden from the hospital. The Jap troops were quartered on the opposite side of the hill. A little stream cut through the valley and they crossed it silently. Gab stayed where he could see anyone who approached from any direction.

Tex followed O'Conner to the far end of the ravine. They drew away a couple of thin rock slabs and tugged at the low shrubs that hid a hole in the side of the hill.

"One American tank," O'Conner said lovingly. "Full of hell and gasoline. If we only had an army to back us up."

The tank, a standard medium weight affair, stood in the cave opening, its treads oiled and clean. A wicked looking 37mm. cannon protruded from the business-like turret.

"Okay!" Tex said. "I've seen it before. You were lucky as hell to get it up here and hidden before the Japs came, but what good is it against Timosha's boys?"

Apparently satisfied that the tank was still safe, O'Conner covered the opening quickly and carefully.

Gab met them at the head of the ravine.

"No one within a mile," he said. "What's up?"

"Nothing yet," O'Conner admitted. "But I think something will be in a few hours. I don't know what's going to happen when I cross that bridge, but if I am any good at guessing, an invisible tank could do a hell of a lot of damage here, in spite of Jap preparations."

SOON after midnight, Dauna Wells heard a light footstep in the hall outside her door. The moon was gone and no light entered the small room. She drew on her slippers and robe. At the door she hesitated. With it locked, she was safe. But her father's door was only a few feet away. Perhaps it was only one of the patients wandering about in the cold. She unlocked and pushed the door open silently and looked toward the red light that marked the fire escape. A man was going through the door.

"Rick!" Her voice was a loud whisper. "It's Dauna, wait."

Rick O'Conner turned. His face registered irritation at being discovered. He was fully dressed and he carried a stubby automatic rifle under his arm. His belt was full of grenades and a pair of field glasses hung from his waist.

He was at her side in an instant, pressing her back into her room. His face, stern and purposeful, warned her to be silent. Once inside, he pushed the door closed and listened. No sound come from outside.

"You should have stayed in bed," he said. "You had no business..."

The girl was angry. She hated being pushed around and Rick had been mean for several days.

"Don't talk that way to me, Rick O'Conner," she said, and her breathing was suddenly hard. "Just because Walter has been kind..."

"Shut up," O'Conner said pointedly. "I'll talk. You were my girl. That's putting it bluntly, I know, but I don't beat around the bush. This two-bit screen lover has been giving you the works and you fall for it. You've been giving him the go sign for months. When I'm washed up, I know it. All I ask is that you leave me alone now and don't gum up the works."

A tear glistened in Dauna Well's eye, but her voice was still firm.

"Go on. Finish any hair-brained scheme you have. Walter Noshan is at least a gentleman."

"Gentleman!" O'Conner's voice was filled with biting sarcasm. "He's so gentle that the sight of blood sent him screaming from the line at Kweiyang. I wouldn't trust him..."

Dauna was both frightened and angry now. She had never seen Rick so determined and bitter. His equipment told her he was about to attempt something foolhardy.

"Rick, please," her voice was husky with concern. "Perhaps I've been thoughtless. Walter Noshan has tried to make me comfortable here."

"And I've been trying to find a way to get us out of this mess," O'Conner's teeth grated. "I haven't had time for moonlight and roses."

DAUNA tried to reason with him.

She tried to show her fear for his safety, but the man was beyond fear. She gave up the attempt, opened the door quickly.

"All right, go get yourself killed. I won't tell a soul. You might at least hear what I have to say."

O'Conner passed her in the door. He wanted to reach over and draw her to him. To kiss the anger from those straight, tight lips. Instead once outside the room he turned and looked at her quietly.

"You may have a chance to prove that you want to help me," he said quietly. "I'll be seeing you."

She clutched his arm tightly and held on.

"Rick, please, where are you going? The gun? You haven't a chance if you use it."

"The gun has been hidden too long now," he said tonelessly. "As for me, you might ask Tex in the morning. I'd rather no one knew tonight."

He went the length of the hall quickly, stepped to the iron ladder outside and swung down it.

The night was perfect for his plans. The jungle hid Rick O'Conner as it hid the wild beasts that lived within it. He followed the trail swiftly, knowing no Japs were necessary to guard the place. The roar of the river came to him from the opening ahead.

O'Conner reached the head of the vine footbridge with pounding heart. It wasn't an easy thing, to walk calmly into what might be death for him. A strong wind whipped through the canyon. He stopped, and slipped the automatic rifle carefully into his belt. With both hands firmly on the vines, he waited. The footbridge swayed wildly back and forth under the force of the gale.

"Here goes nothing!" O'Conner whispered.

The bridge was unstable and like a living thing under his tread. Remembering Aben Dagh, he stopped a quarter of the way across and looked back.

A lantern bobbed on the trail. In its light, he could see Dauna, Walter Noshan and a Japanese soldier running toward him. He wanted to go back: wanted to murder Noshan with his bare hands. And why had Dauna betrayed him?

"Rick—Rick O'Conner." It was Dauna's voice, high-pitched with fear and hysteria. "Please, Rick, it's death."

NOSHAN was shouting wildly, his dark face partly visible in the lantern light. The Jap soldier raised his rifle and aimed it toward the bridge. Dauna, ahead of him, would not see the action.

O'Conner started to run blindly toward the other side of the chasm. If they managed to shoot him now...

The center of the span was close. Aben Dagh had approached it calmly, well poised. O'Conner ran.

Crack.

The song of the bullet passed over his head.

He reached the center of the bridge. Crack.

The second shot was closer. A strange dizziness came over O'Conner. He faltered, tripped on a twisted vine and fell forward. Had he been hit? Through the maze of the bridge he could see the slim, straight arrow of the river shooting toward its goal. He was suddenly bathed with heat. It passed over his body as though a furnace had been opened in his face. The black tidal wave of night swept across him and the river. The scraping vines against his face vanished.

"Rick—Please come back." It was Dauna, her voice far away and fading with every word. Then, nothingness.

GENERAL TIMOSHA was a clever man. There were those among the younger leaders of his army who would have long ago done away with Marshall Wells and his company. Timosha had remained adamant.

"An army remains strong only with food and medical attention."

This was his one civilized thought, and it remained intact only so far as his own army was concerned. This, perhaps, was why the bridge appealed so much to the little warrior. Although frightening even to him, he found the bridge an ammunition-saver. It was quick and clean when it came to disposing of his enemies.

Timosha was not in a pleasant mood this morning. He was excited and perturbed. He came with a small detachment of men, strutted into the open compound before the building and commanded them to halt. His men, like puppets, looked much alike. They were gray with dust and their eyes seemed more slanted than ever, puffed with their early arising.

Marshall Wells met him at the door. The old surgeon had had only time to don his robe and get downstairs before the general reached the door. They met as always, in keen distrust of each other's inner thoughts.

"The general arises early," Wells said and led the way into the small, bare office at the rear of the building. "What does he wish from us?"

Timosha was silent. He sat down on one of the straight chairs and removed his cap.

"Last night your attaché, O'Conner, crossed the bridge." His voice was expressionless.

Wells nodded. The news had troubled him deeply, since Noshan and Dauna had told him upon their return to the hospital.

"I know," he answered. "The man must have gone mad. He wasn't the type to stand imprisonment."

"Imprisonment?" Timosha's eyes lifted. "I am sure you are all well treated and safe here."

Wells retracted his statement carefully.

"To the American, O'Conner," he said. "Fighting was the only thing reasonable. You know of men who stop thinking normally unless they are under terrific punishment?"

Timosha nodded.

"Perhaps there are others who feel the same," he asked innocently.

Wells shook his head.

"No, I think not. The others will work for their safety. Only O'Conner was a problem. It may be well that he is gone."

MARSHALL WELLS was stalling.

No such wish entered his mind. He hoped fervently that O'Conner was somehow safe. Rick had been a good man. Too good a man to lose. He watched Timosha's face closely. The general arose and faced him. His legs were spread far apart. He held his riding quirt tightly in his gloved fist.

"My spies report that the other Americans, you call them Tex Wallace and Gab Harnett," he pronounced the names with difficulty, "were with O'Conner constantly."

Wells agreed with a nod.

"They are few against many," he answered. "It is only natural that they stay to themselves. They are both good men."

If he expected the Jap to take this statement calmly, he was mistaken. Timosha's body grew rigid.

"We cannot take chances," he said. "The two must be locked up. That will leave you, your daughter and Noshan to work here.

"A force of our men are on the way here from Burma," the general added. "They will be several days in transit. When they reach us, you also will be safely taken care of."

Marshall Wells, at any other time, might have let the words frighten him. But now, as Timosha left the office, he slammed the door bitterly. Tex and Gab would be out of the picture. O'Conner had quit. He wondered what would become of Dauna, once the Jap force was complete.

Through the window Wells saw Jap soldiers prodding Tex and Gab not too gently with their bayonets.

RICK O'CONNER had been partly aware of what he faced. So aware of it that had Dauna not found him, and the Japanese soldier not opened fire as he stood on the bridge, Rick might have turned back. Now, he was glad he had not.

He opened his eyes slowly, realizing that the heat had died and he was lying full length on the ground at the opposite end of the bridge.

He stood up to make sure of this, and then stared down at his own body. He was not invisible or changed in any form. He still carried the rifle and the grenades were strung about his waist. He stepped toward the chasm. It was daylight. He had crossed the bridge and flopped into the undergrowth. No telling how long he had been thus.

Something moved and glinted in the sun across the river. Japs were coming down the trail from the hospital. Straining his eyes, he tried to make out who was with them.

Tex and Gab walked in front of the small group.

Their shirts had been torn off. They walked silently, facing straight ahead. Quickly, O'Conner stepped behind a tree.

Then he realized that it had been needless. From his hiding place, he could make out a Jap, only his head showing above the foliage across the river. There were three of them, now that his eyes picked them out. A machine gun had been placed at the edge of the chasm a few yards from the bridgehead.

They had been there all the time.

He had stood in plain sight of them, not fifty yards away and they had never opened fire. The knowledge of it made him excited in a way he had never felt before. A strange new feeling of power swept through him as he realized he had supposedly been in plain sight of the Jap machine gun crew and they had not fired upon him.

Then, although to himself, he was entirely normal—evidently he was invisible to the others.

O'Conner stepped toward the head of the bridge. He'd have to give this thing a test sooner or later. Making sure the men in the machine gun nest were looking toward him, he stood in plain sight of them, waved a hand and then ducked back behind the trees. They made no move to fire.

TEX and Gab were at the opposite end of the bridge. Obviously they were going to be forced to walk it.

Timosha had grown wiser during the last few hours. Those machine gunners were hidden in the forest for a purpose. As Tex started across the bridge, O'Conner saw one of the gunners arise, cross and kneel before the gun.

Timosha was taking no chances. Tex and Gab would be mowed down before they reached the center of the span.

O'Conner could see the white, bloodless face of Tex Wallace as the slim Texan started out across the vines. Gab's heavy body plowed behind him, and the bridge started swaying under their combined weight.

O'Conner went to one knee, the automatic rifle balanced against his shoulder. The machine gunner had both hands on the firing end of his weapon. Tex would be picked off before he could get ten feet out on the span.

Crack.

O'Conner's rifle sent lead straight into the Jap's forehead. The man twitched backward and dropped out of sight. A shout of anger arose from the far side of the river. Automatically, face expressionless, a new man pushed the body away and clutched the barrel of the machine gun.

"Run for it, Tex!"

Tex looked ahead of him, recognized Rick O'Conner's voice and started to run. Gab, not so fortunate, slipped and fell heavily. A hand grenade arched high above the chasm from O'Conner's right hand and the machine gun blew straight into the air.

"Rick," Tex sounded frightened. "Where in hell are you?"

"Keep moving," O'Conner said. "You'll see me in a minute."

He was already on the bridge. Tex reached the center and fell forward on his face. He kept crawling slowly forward, clutching his throat with one hand.

"Rick, Rick! I think I've been hit. It's hotter than the devil."

O'Conner reached Tex and vaulted over him. Gab was trying to rise. A Jap officer raised his pistol and fired at point blank range. A quiver passed through Gab's paunchy figure and he lay still.

"Gab!"

O'Conner, not even a shadow on the bridge, reached down and tried to lift him.

TEX was still crawling, close to the far end of the bridge. O'Conner could see him, but he knew that to other eyes, Tex had already passed from sight.

Gab lifted his head slowly.

"Rick—what the hell. I don't get it."

"Shut up and try to crawl," O'Conner whispered. "I'm here all right. You can't see me."

More bullets tore from the group of Japs. The Japs were almost on the bridge, but they dared not advance across it.

O'Conner hurled a grenade toward them and saw two men go down. He lifted Gab under the armpits and started to tug him across the bridge. The vines under him gave way and he fell, arose and went on again.

They were cutting away the supports.

A half-dozen long, cable-like vines reached into the trees on each side of the gorge. Japs were slashing at them with their sabers.

O'Conner managed to reach the center of the bridge.

"Leave me." Gab tried to catch his breath and O'Conner knew he was suffering with the wound and with the heat. "I'm done for. They'll drop us both into the river."

"Shut up," O'Conner grunted and kept on tugging. Gab regained some of his strength and pushed with his feet. Two of the cables had already parted.

The bridge sagged wildly on one side.

The Japs stopped cutting. They had just seen two men disappear from sight. They had forgotten, in the excitement, to go on with the task of hacking the bridge apart. Timosha himself, and a small group of soldiers were hurrying down the trail. O'Conner dragged Gab the rest of the way to safety.

Tex was stretched out on the grass, seemingly in a deep sleep. O'Conner dragged Gab to the side of the Texan and with his handkerchief, stopped the flow of blood from Gab's wounded shoulder.

Gab's breath was coming more evenly now.

Then, for the time being, the three of them were safe. O'Conner stood up, tried to resist the temptation of hurling another grenade at Timosha's men and thought better of it. No use drawing their fire if he could prevent it. For the time being, they were safe, and unseen.

Three men against an army were not many, but three shadows—three men who could go directly into the enemy's camp without being seen should prove a power to be reckoned with.

"I SEE the American with the red hair has found our secret." O'Conner pivoted swiftly, his rifle aimed straight at the head of the giant Burmese, Aben Dagh. "I suggest you drop the rifle before my men misunderstand the action," Aben Dagh went on.

"Good Lord," O'Conner's mouth dropped open. "Robin Hood."

A broad grin lighted Aben Dagh's face. He stood perhaps twenty feet from O'Conner, his gigantic bronzed body covered from head to foot with tight fitting brown skins. On his shoulder he carried a quiver of long arrows; his bow, a mammoth six-foot affair, was strung with one of them. It lay loosely across his wrist.

Behind Aben Dagh, six Chinese stood. They were dressed in the same manner and their faces were jolly and tinged with smiles at O'Conner's bewilderment.

"That is better," Aben Dagh said as O'Conner let the gun hang loosely in his hand. "No, not Robin Hood, I'm afraid. One could hardly call this snake-infested swamp Sherwood Forest."

The Burmese was no jungle savage after all. O'Conner had felt the keen intelligence of the man that day Aben had walked the bridge. Now he understood the smile, the lack of fear. Aben had been returning to a land he knew well.

"I—that is—we are on the spot," O'Conner said suddenly. "Last night I crossed the bridge because I had a hunch. My companions were forced to follow me."

Aben nodded.

"I know," he said simply. "We have been watching."

"Then, you saw what they tried to do?"

"I saw that you are a brave man," Aben stepped forward, extending his hand. The arrow had already been replaced in its quiver. "Perhaps we allowed you to go close to death, wondering if you would prove yourself a fit warrior for our purpose."

O'Conner took his hand and gripped it tightly.

"I don't know what your purpose is," he answered quietly, "but if you're fighting the Japs, count me in."

"Hey," it was Tex Wallace, "for the love-o'-Mike, what goes here?"

O'Conner turned to find Tex and Gab on their feet a few feet behind.

"Plenty," he said dryly. "In twenty minutes, you've escaped death by a hair, met a modern Robin Hood and become invisible men."

Gab looked at Tex and a foolish grin twisted his fat mouth.

"The guy's nuts," he said. "If this bulk of mine is invisible..."

"Only to those on the other side of the bridge," O'Conner pointed out. "If you don't believe it, look across."

Gab looked at the Japs, still waiting about the far end of the bridge. They were barely fifty yards away, fully armed and yet they made no pretense of opening fire.

"Christopher," Gab exclaimed.

ABEN was growing impatient.

"It will be necessary for you to go before TiSenn, our leader," he said. "We must go at once, before nightfall brings more danger to the jungle."

O'Conner was taken back.

"Then there are more of you?"

A titter of laughter came from one of the Chinese, and Aben smiled.

"Many more," he assured the American. "Come, you will see."

He turned and went silently back into the heavy, dim jungle. O'Conner looked once more at the two men he had saved on the bridge. Gab was staring at Tex as though the Texan was a hoax.

"How those heathens can miss this two hundred pound bulk of mine is more than I can savvy."

"Don't worry, Gab," O'Conner grinned. "You haven't lost a pound. It takes the same amount of lead to kill an invisible man as it does a normal one. Better get moving."

They followed him quickly, taking a last look across the bridge where, under Timosha's orders, Jap soldiers were hard at work repairing the supports that held the bridge.

Aben and his men were already ahead, walking quietly and swiftly through the forest. O'Conner followed, making sure that Gab was well enough to keep up. Aben moved along the small trail as though it were Main Street. The man was familiar with every stick and stone.

This was something that O'Conner had not reckoned with. It was only logical that when men disappeared from the world, they must go somewhere. Yet, meeting Aben Dagh and learning that many men dwelt here on the other side of the gorge had surprised him. Try as he might, O'Conner could make no plans now beyond his nose. This was an astonishing new world. A world where men lived normally and yet were shut from their old companions by the simple problem of sight. It was as though Dauna Wells and Timosha and everyone in the world were blind. As though he dwelt on a same plane of living, and yet could not be understood simply because they were unable to see that he existed.

ABEN was slowing down now.

O'Conner saw that the swamp was deeper and the trail blotted out in the gumbo underfoot.

"You will jump from one dry place to another," Aben had stopped and turned around. "Make sure your feet do not slip. We have but a mile to go."

The three of them, Americans with a lost past, went forward cautiously. Black, stinking mud gurgled around the tiny grass spots they jumped on. The thick, vine-clad trees towered up and interlaced with each other.

Then, ahead, there was light. They reached high ground and came out into a grassy opening. Ahead of them was blue sky.

"The city of Twung," Aben said shortly and O'Conner went to the edge of the cliff they had approached.

A quick sigh escaped his lips. Then this was the hiding place of the invisible men of China. Spread out across the fertile valley below was a great city. Its buildings were much like any Chinese city. One thing was different. The place was clean and white in the sun. No dust was here and no filth. Instead, broad avenues were bordered with bright flowers and green grassy slopes. He imagined it must be a sort of Chinese heaven to the doomed men who came here.

"The palace of TiSenn," Aben was at his side, pointing toward the square, squat building in the very center of Twung. "We go there at once."

AS they approached the palace O'Conner grew increasingly aware of the respect paid to Aben Dagh. The city, as he saw it at close range, was a thriving place of many merchants and thrifty shops. There were no high walls or dark, warlike gates. Horses were waiting them at the edge of the jungle and they rode down the avenue, ever closer to the center of Twung.

Men and women came from their places of business and bowed low to Aben as he passed. He smiled at them, waving a friendly hand as the party moved forward. Riding close to O'Conner, he said:

"Of course you are surprised. I will try to tell you something of Twung. TiSenn will enjoy telling you more."

"Thanks," O'Conner answered. "But right now I'm anxious to get a crack at Timosha. I'm worried about Dauna Wells and her father."

Aben's face darkened slightly.

"You have time later," he said. "Now, of Twung. We know nothing about the gorge of disappearance. Why our bodies change when we cross it, we have not fathomed. Twung was built centuries ago as a refuge for the men and women who come here. TiSenn has ruled for half a century and his father before him. Bandits and criminals are eliminated."

"Then you don't allow everyone to stay here?" O'Conner had been wondering about that.

Aben's lips parted in a smile.

"The elimination of the unsuitable is my task," he confessed. "TiSenn is a kind man. He does not talk much of the business I handle."

That was why Aben had commanded so much respect, O'Conner thought grimly. Thank God the tall Burmese hadn't decided that he and his companions were unfit for Twung.

"Others who come here," Aben continued, "are given a shop or a trade. They thrive and are happy."

"But surely you must have an outside source for food and goods?"

Aben smiled.

"That is also my task," he said. "You mentioned that I was a Robin Hood. Out of Burma come caravans of teak, sapphires, rubies and jade. We do not touch honest men. Fortunately, for us, a great number of bandits bring their loot along the Burma road. It is no crime to rob these fat gluttons to feed our honest men."

"I'm beginning to like you a great deal," O'Conner said. "I guess I'd make a good killer myself, if a few Japs and a wagon- load of Japanese food and equipment came over the hill while I was waiting."

He felt Aben's hand come down lightly and sincerely against his shoulder.

"That's what I have in mind," the Burmese said quietly. "I've admired you since the day you stared at me with that puzzled look as I crossed the bridge. I need good men. Many here do not care to fight."

"And the girl?" O'Conner persisted. "We can rescue her?"

"That will come in good time," the Burmese insisted. "Time will care for many things."

BECAUSE of Aben's power, they were admitted to the palace of TiSenn without difficulty. O'Conner was surprised at the straight simplicity of the great white halls and the lack of ornate materials. Two guards in the same skin uniforms, bows strung, stood at the entrance. They bowed low as Aben entered, followed by the three Americans.

"Some joint," Gab whispered. "This guy, SenSen goes for big rooms."

TiSenn's chamber was at the far end of a great hall. In the huge throne room were three small chairs placed about a rich, oriental rug. At the fourth corner of the rug was TiSenn's throne. It was covered with dark wine-colored fabric.

"You will be seated," Aben said quietly and his voice echoed through the place. "Our master, TiSenn is a simple man. He does not deal in power, but in love."

O'Conner sat down, ill at ease in his torn, dirty clothing. Aben sat cross-legged on the rug.

An old, old man came to the door behind the throne. His hair was black and sparse, hanging in two pigtails. His face was a mass of wrinkles and the nails of his aged hands were nearly an inch in length.

"Welcome, Aben."

TiSenn's voice was stronger than his body, low and pleasant. He approached the rug, bowed quietly at the three strangers and sat down. His dress was simple, a long gray robe that covered his body to the floor and hung in folds about his wrists.

"You have brought men from beyond the line?"

Aben nodded and stood up.

"We also bring food and jewels from a caravan of dogs waylaid on the road," he said. "We leave tomorrow for more riches."

TiSenn was pleased.

"Tell me of yourselves," he addressed O'Conner. "You wish to stay here?"

It was the American's chance. He stood up slowly, bowed and launched into his story of the Yunan Hospital. TiSenn's old face was expressionless, as he told of Timosha and the ruthlessness of the Japanese invaders.

AS O'Conner talked, he was aware of a gathering storm outside the walls of the palace. The place grew dark and candles in long silver holders were brought by servants and placed beside the throne.

"Six Americans were at Hunan," O'Conner went on, and a sudden clap of thunder silenced him. He waited for the sound to roll back into the hills and continued. "Now there are but three. One is a girl, unprotected and at the mercy of Timosha. It was my wish that you would send men with me to rescue them and perhaps attack the Japs."

TiSenn was silent. Thunder and lightning were tearing down upon the city of Twung now, and they talked only between the attacks from the heavens.

Aben's face told O'Conner nothing. Perhaps he had talked too much. Aben had said that everything would come with time, but time would only serve Timosha and give his troops time to consolidate. God alone knew what the Chinese at Kweiyang would have to face in another week.

At last, TiSenn had made up his mind.

"I can sympathize with your problem," he said slowly. "But, it is unfortunate that I cannot supply men to fight the Japanese people."

"But..."

TiSenn held a thin arm aloft.

"Let me speak," he said quickly. "The city of Twung has been founded on peace. We could have attacked the Japanese many times. Through the centuries, many invasions have occurred in this part of China. If we had fought against them, the City would have become a pool of war. Instead, we have taken here only men who hate blood and wish peace."

"Does Aben hate war?" O'Conner asked coolly.

A tinge of red came to the cheeks of the old man and Aben crouched forward, wondering what trouble O'Conner had brought.

"Aben," TiSenn answered, "is at heart a good man. It was necessary that we have food and materials. We cannot become entirely self-supporting."

Tex, sitting quietly beside Gab, heard the faint hum of motors.

He leaned over Gab.

"Bombers!" he whispered.

Gab nodded, only half hearing.

"Aben attacks only bandits," TiSenn was explaining to O'Conner. "He does not fight where policies are concerned."

"The Japs are bandits," O'Conner protested. "They kill men and women as one. They murder children."

Tex's head was cocked on one side, listening.

"If I don't hear Jap bombers," he said aloud, "I'm one myself."

Aben arose, his figure strong and straight. They all listened to the rapidly growing sound.

"They will not harm us," TiSenn said quietly. "Like yourselves, the city of Twung cannot be seen from the air. It, also, is bathed in the air of invisibility."

"Just the same," Tex answered. "Those boys are plenty low. The storm must have forced them down."

It was worse now. Rain slanted down over the city of Twung and thunder crashed time after time, drowning the increasing violence of sound that came from the approaching bomber squadron.

"Can't get above the storm," O'Conner said. "Probably loaded with stuff for Yunan."

Aben still standing alert before his king, uttered one last plea.

"Then you refuse to allow me to fight with these Americans against the Japanese?"

TiSenn nodded.

"I am sorry," he said. "Under the circumstances, you cannot fight."

TISENN arose slowly and crossed the room. They followed him to an outer porch, partly covered, that was supported against the upper wall. Rain swept in and drenched them. TiSenn stood quietly, listening to the storm and the approaching planes.

"Jerusalem," it was Gab. His voice loud with awe. "Here they come."

O'Conner felt the skin on his neck prickle strangely as the huge formation of bombers swept down into the protected valley. The sky was low with black clouds. He wondered how the Japs would get altitude to clear the opposite end.

The first plane dove down suddenly and a half-dozen long sticks dropped from its under side.

"They're dropping their stuff," he whispered. "God pity the city of Twung."

He was right. As they waited, rain pelting down into their faces, ten great bombers swept down one after another, dropped their heavy loads and swept up straight toward the sun they knew would be above the clouds.

In those few minutes, TiSenn, King of Twung, was forced to change his mind. As the heavy bombs dropped into the great city, crushing and destroying huge sections of it, TiSenn turned from a peaceful man into a determined, hard-bitten warrior.

"And all because a gang of Jap bombardiers hit a target they didn't know existed," Tex said to O'Conner as they followed the King back to his room.

"Wait until morning," O'Conner answered. "We'll have an army that will fight."

AS the hours passed, they waited in a chamber near TiSenn's throne room. Waited while TiSenn received full reports of the damage from every part of his city. At last, he called them to him.

Aben was there, a new light in his eyes. TiSenn stood this time, and refused to rest. His age added fire to the battle light that shone from the old man's eyes.

"Short hours ago," he spoke direct to O'Conner, "I told you that we would not fight the Japanese. If I had listened to Aben, this slaughter might not have occurred."

He caught his breath, speaking in quick, jerky sentences.

"What has happened has changed my mind. I am aware that those flying devils did not mean to hit our city. However, if they had done it deliberately, they could have never killed and destroyed more ruthlessly.

"I have made my decision. Aben will be ready tonight to lead five hundred of my best bowmen to the camp of Yunan. You, Rick O'Conner, will be second in command.

"Under other circumstances, five hundred men would not be enough."

He paused, smiling thoughtfully. "With my men," he continued, "it will be different."

"Very different," Aben agreed.

A hard smile passed over TiSenn's face.

"A cloak of invisibility is a wonderful power," he said finally. "See that none of my men abuse it. See that they fight for the cause that is good."

RICK O'CONNER had but one thought in mind the next twelve hours. Aben would take care of the Japs. He, O'Conner, had a score to settle with Timosha.

Five hundred of TiSenn's men were marching to Yunan. They were much alike. Kind, healthy men with solemn faces. Their dress was Aben's dress and they carried bows and full quivers.

"You, perhaps, wonder why we are able to keep our invisibility on the far side of the bridge," Aben said, when they were close to the gorge.

O'Conner shook his head.

"I've been doing a lot of thinking," he confessed.

Aben smiled.

"A very important point," he said. "It is necessary that you know your own margin of safety. Twung is a city in a horse-shoe- shaped bend of the river. The fourth side is protected by dense swamp through which no man can pass. For some strange reason, we remain unseen by the human eye for ten hours after passing the chasm. By then, the spell which envelops us will wear off. I have timed this carefully and know that our raids must never be longer than ten hours. Mark that point and mark it well. Your life may depend on it."

Gab and Tex were close behind as the army of Twung marched in single file through the dense jungle.

"Ten hours," Gab sighed. "Tex, if I get close to the dead-line with this hunk of flesh, for the love-o'-Mike see that I get across the river in time. Timosha's monkeys will think I'm a battleship stranded in the desert."

Tex grunted.

"In ten hours, Timosha won't miss anything but his head," he answered grimly.

Aben was the first to reach the gorge. O'Conner behind him on the trail heard a gasp of surprise escape the Burmese warrior's lips.

"The bridge," Aben rushed forward. "They have destroyed it."

Gab Harnett groaned.

"No bridge and me with my pound of flesh."

O'Conner was at Aben's side. They stood silently, staring down at the river deep in the chasm below.

"Timosha!" Aben said. "He has finally realized the meaning of the bridge."

AT the Red Cross Hospital at Yunan, Dauna Wells and her father were facing their last days. No word had come from Rick O'Conner and his buddies. Marshall Wells had given them up for dead. Walter Noshan was with them at the hospital.

The three of them sat on the porch of the hospital. A storm was clearing over the city. Japanese bombers had come over, flying high and going to the east. The moon was up and Yunan had strangely escaped the fury of the bomber squadron. The air, for the first time in weeks, was clear and they sat quietly, trying to enjoy it.

"I tried to talk sense to O'Conner," Noshan was saying. "I told him we didn't have a chance here. His attitude was bound to endanger our safety. He should have played up to Timosha as I have."

"Our safety, or your own?" Marshall Wells' voice was harsh as he stared with partly closed lids across the compound toward the Jap tents.

Noshan's lips tightened.

"I know you hate me, doctor," he confessed. "I've tried to help you and Dauna since we came here. My friendship with Timosha has finally given us a chance to escape."

The speech had produced the effect he meant it to. Wells, no longer disinterested, turned quickly and stared at him. Dauna's lips opened and an exclamation of surprise escaped.

"But Rick!" she protested. "And Tex and Gab. Are we to desert them?"

The darkness hid Noshan's face.

"They are dead," he said. "Timosha said his men shot them all on the bridge."

"And now the bridge has been destroyed," Wells answered curtly. "I suppose you knew that."

Noshan made no attempt to hide his emotions.

"They were fools," he said. "Timosha will kill those who oppose him. He will kill you also if you don't leave at once. His replacements are due here tomorrow."

"And how do you propose that we leave?"

"Timosha had been grateful to me for the favor I have done him," Noshan continued. "We, at least you and I, are enemies. In spite of that, I will drive the station wagon across the hills to Kweiyang tonight. In a few hours, we will be with the Chinese."

Marshall Wells did not answer for a while, but his jaw was jutting forward angrily. He turned to Dauna.

"We have little choice," he said finally. "I'd do anything to get you out of here."

"And suppose I refuse to go?" she asked. "Suppose I would rather stay here and wait for Rick. Defy the Japanese and fight with you here at the hospital."

"Then I would be the proudest father in the world," Wells answered softly. "But my daughter would be facing death and I'd still be a damn fool. No, we'll go to Kweiyang. If the boys were alive, they'd want it this way."

Dauna stood up slowly. Her heart was heavy. She felt as though everything within her was dead. In Kweiyang, at least, she could be of help at the Chinese hospital. She turned toward the door, carefully avoiding Walter Noshan's eyes.

"I'll pack," she said. "I suppose you'll want to start at once."

"The sooner the better," Noshan's answers were curt. "The sooner you are safe, the happier I will be."

IN an hour, they were on the road to Kweiyang. The desert and the red sandy cliffs were bright as day. Noshan had whispered quick words to the sentry and the station wagon had passed, picked up speed and fled into the night.

"That was simple," Wells whispered to Dauna. "Too simple, I'm afraid."

Dauna was silent. Her thoughts were with Rick O'Conner. Rick was stubborn, but he was brave and honest. That, she thought with a shudder, was more than she could say about Walter Noshan. She knew it now.

Ten miles along the road the station wagon sputtered and came to a halt in a place where the road went through a sharp cut. Marshall Wells followed Noshan from the car and leaned over the hood.

"The engine?" he asked questioningly.

Noshan whirled about quickly, a pistol in his hand. In the rear of the car, Dauna Wells stiffened. The two men stood there, the older one with arms raised, his face white with anger. Walter Noshan's words were hard.

"I cannot take both my passengers to Kweiyang." The gun in his hand wavered dangerously. "It was my intention to see that Dauna reached safety."

Dauna Wells was not a coward. Her hand crept toward the darkness at the bottom of the car, groped about and found the handle of a jack.

"You're rotten, Noshan." Wells' voice was low and choked. "I should have known a snake would never stop crawling on its belly."

The pistol came up slowly and a sneering grin covered Noshan's lips.

"Talk, Marshall," he said. "Talk your head off. I'm in the driver's seat as I have been from the first. This is Timosha's gift for my loyalty. I'm taking Dauna to Kweiyang with me. If she squeals on me, I'll kill her as I'm going to kill you."

Dauna was partly out of the car now, the jack handle firmly grasped in her right hand. Her foot touched the sand and Noshan whirled about, firing quickly. She felt a hot searing pain in her shoulder, whipped the jack handle up and threw it with every ounce of strength within her. Then, with a sob, she fell forward in the sand.

"DAUNA," it was her father's voice. "Good girl! You've taken care of Noshan."

She felt firm hands on her shoulder. He ripped her dress open. Opening her eyes, she saw his kind eyes upon her and felt the torn strip of cloth as it wrapped tightly around the wound.

The sound of a car stopping came from behind them. Three men advanced across the sand to the station wagon. A car, its light burning dimly, was parked on the road. The men were Japs.

"An accident?" It was Timosha himself, his eyes slitted angrily. "Why, it is Marshall Wells and his charming daughter."

Wells was silent, waiting. Timosha went to Noshan's side, lifted him up and then dropped the man with an expression of disgust.

"Dead," he said. "A fit end for a traitor."

Sitting there helplessly as her father faced the men, Dauna Wells wanted to cry. Her eyes were hot and wet.

"Marshall Wells," it was Timosha who spoke his words cutting into her brain like a knife. "You have murdered a man. You must stand trial. You are under arrest."

"Go on," Wells' deliberate, sarcastic voice was an insult to the small Jap. "You intend to kill me one way or the other, get it over with."

Timosha grinned and the expression was burning with hatred.

"It would be so simple to leave you here," he answered. "But the firing squad is more formal. Facing a military firing squad brings out the best, or the worst in a man."

"I'LL be thrown by a longhorn," Tex Wallace said quietly. "So the monkey men knock the bridge down on us. What now?"

O'Conner was already searching about. An army engineer doesn't let any river stay long unbridged, in spite of how hopeless the crossing might seem. Aben halted his men and they waited, seemingly untroubled by the loss.

Aben followed O'Conner, catching up with him amid the trees.

"You have a plan?"

O'Conner shook his head.

"Not much of a plan," he admitted. "Just wondering if there are enough vines here to make another bridge."

The trees were hanging with thick cable-like stuff. O'Conner caught the end of one, hacked it with his knife and tested the strength. Apparently satisfied, he turned to the Burmese.

"It will be dark enough to cross in a couple of hours," he said. "Meanwhile have your men cut as many of these things as they can."

"We must get one man across to work from the other side."

"I'll take care of that," O'Conner promised. "There's no time to waste."

While Aben set his men to work, O'Conner followed the edge of chasm north. With a sharp eye he chose a place where the canyon was narrow and a giant tree grew close to its edge. One branch hung out half-way across.

"Tex."

The Texan came on the run. He saw the tree and the narrow lips of the canyon and grinned understandingly.

"Takes the loss of a bridge to make a monkey out of me, huh?"

O'Conner nodded.

"You're the only man light enough to swing across without breaking a vine," he said. "Think you can make it?"

Tex looked up at the limb overhead and then calculated the distance across the gap.

"I think so," he answered. "I'll have one chance to try."

Aben's men had already collected a pile of long, heavy brown vines. From the pile, O'Conner chose the thickest one he could find. Attaching the end of it around his waist, he climbed the trunk of the tree quickly and made it fast to the limb. When he came down, his face was grim.

"I hate to take a chance with your neck," he said. "Tex, if you let go of that thing before you get across, I'll kill you."

The Texan's face was sober.

"You won't have to," he said.

Gab Harnett had been standing several feet away watching the proceedings silently.

"Buy me a kite and fly me across," he offered. "Man, this is one time I'm glad a scale can't hold me."

Tex grabbed the end of the vine, tested it with a quick jerk and wrapped it tightly around his wrists.

"Here goes nothin'," he said and backed as far away from the tree as he could. With a running jump, he was in the air.

Swinging back and forth, he gained momentum, shooting far out over the canyon. The vine had reached the apex of its swing. O'Conner waited until Tex swung past him and shouted:

"Now!"

The Texan flew out straight over the chasm, reached the end of the swing and let go. His body seemed to hesitate in mid-air, then fell forward. Grabbing with both hands as he landed, he hit the far bank and lay panting. Then he arose, rubbed the palms of his hands together and grinned across at them.

"Let's build that bridge," he shouted. "It ain't safe alone over here."

With the first cable across and attached to the other side, O'Conner went over hand over hand. In an hour, they had constructed a heavy causeway over which Aben's men marched.

There was no need for caution now. Aben's army could remain on the enemy side of the time chasm for ten hours with no danger of being detected. As they climbed the pathway toward the hospital, O'Conner noticed lanterns and much activity near the hospital.

"Wait," he told Aben. "Something going on up there. I think you and I had better look around before we run into more trouble than we can handle."

"Wise talk," the Burmese answered. He held up his hand and the column halted, waiting as silently as ghosts along the trail where it met the road.

"Tex," O'Conner called. "You and Gab stay with the men. If we signal you, come alone. This thing will take planning."

The Texan nodded and the two men went quickly toward the lanterns. As O'Conner reached the front wall of the hospital, he realized with horror what was about to take place. Marshall Wells was there, stripped to the waist, his face to the wall. Timosha and his aides stood by the car on the road.

TEN men stood in a straight line at the edge of the yard, rifles ready.

"You have a last chance to pray to your white God," Timosha's voice rang out in the stillness. Wells' head was bowed, but his lips remained silent.

O'Conner gripped the automatic rifle which he had carefully kept throughout his trip to Twung.

"My friend, Wells," he whispered to Aben. "They've done something with the girl. We've got to save Wells first and then find Dauna."

Aben pointed to the rifle and nodded grimly.

"Take care of the firing squad," he said in a low voice. "I'll get the prisoner away while you work."

O'Conner moved closer. The gravel kicked up under his shoes and the general twirled around nervously. His face turned a trifle pale, but satisfied that he had been mistaken with the sound, Timosha turned once more to the business at hand.

"Attention."

The firing squad snapped to attention, rifles held stiffly.

"Aim."

Aben was on his knees, creeping along the wall where Marshall Wells stood. O'Conner could see him clearly as he whispered something to Wells and saw the doctor's figure stiffen. O'Conner lifted the rifle quickly and fired into the air.

"What was that?"

Timosha wheeled about. The men in the squad reacted at once to the strange occurrence. Some of them whirled about, rifles aimed at the spot. O'Conner took no chances. He fired at point blank range at Timosha and saw the little general go down with a groan. The rifles flashed along the line of the firing squad, but they were shooting at nothing. Afraid he might be hit, O'Conner fell flat on his stomach and fired.

Timosha arose on one elbow, holding his stomach with a bloody hand.

"Retreat to the camp," his voice was weak. "They are invisible devils."

The Japs broke ranks and ran wildly across the road and into the brush. O'Conner saw Aben leading Wells through the hospital door and made sure that Timosha was in no condition to fire at them. Then he turned and motioned to Tex Wallace.

In half an hour, Aben and his men were all in the big stone building. O'Conner went straight to Marshall Wells. The doctor was on the third floor lying on a small cot. O'Conner came in quickly and sat down beside him.

"Sorry we have to meet under such odd circumstances," he said.

Wells smiled wanly.

"Aben, I guess you call him, has told me what happened."

"Good," O'Conner answered. "I'm afraid we must be an odd army, but for the time being, a powerful one."

Wells held out his hand in the direction of the voice.

"I can't see you, Rick, but I'm glad you came back. Dauna..."

His voice choked with emotion.

"Where is she?"

"Timosha has her somewhere in the camp," Wells answered. "I think she's in his tent."

"Timosha won't do harm for the time being," O'Conner said. "I'm going after Dauna."

ABEN had waited without a word until this conversation was finished. Now he had made known his own plans.

"I have the general downstairs," he said. "His wound is not serious. Perhaps, so long as we are already holding him here, we can use his power to get your woman out of the camp."

O'Conner started downstairs, then turned to Wells.

"I'll have Gab take you to safety," he said. "The Japs can't see us, but they will come here soon to search for you."

Wells nodded.

"Don't worry about me," he said. "For the love of God, Rick, find Dauna."

O'Conner reached the first floor to find Gab and Tex Wallace poking fun at Timosha.

"The little general is wearing his neck out trying to see us," Gab said as O'Conner approached. "He's wise to our trick, but it doesn't help him."

"Seems to have eye trouble," Tex drawled.

Timosha sat alone on a small chair. His side was bulging with a huge bandage that Tex had dragged from the supplies. Timosha was afraid. Never before had he been at the mercy of men who were solid and yet could not be seen.

"I demand that you release me at once." His voice was weak and lacked conviction in his own power.

"I've got one task for you," O'Conner crossed the floor swiftly and faced the Jap. "Dauna is within your camp. If I don't bring her out alive, you'll never leave this hospital."

An ugly, forced smile covered Timosha's face.

"You have an offer?"

"I make no offers," O'Conner snarled. "Where the girl is concerned, I'll kill you with my bare hands."

He turned to Tex.

"Take this skunk and Marshall Wells to the forest," he said grimly. "See that you and Gab protect both of them. Aben will give you ten men."

A gasp of surprise escaped Timosha's lips.

"Ten men..."

O'Conner whirled upon him.

"Yes, ten—and many more. You and your monkeys are against an army this time. An army of men who will fight unseen."

O'CONNER crossed the road swiftly, making sure that his footsteps were unheard. Timosha's camp was stretched out on the top of the hill, hundreds of tents with lanterns that flickered in the night. Sentries had been posted on all sides. Machine guns and rifles had appeared in profusion since the attack.

O'Conner passed the line safely and went down the row of tents. Everywhere, the place was alive with chattering groups of Japs. These men could fight and fight well what they could see. The strange story of the firing squad was on all their lips. They had no wish to venture from the camp lines, even in search of their brave general.

Timosha's tent was not hard to find. O'Conner knew he must murder the sentry who stood guard at the big, circular tent in the center of the camp. The man was alert and frightened, standing before the flap of canvas. O'Conner wondered if they had tied the girl up and decided they would take this precaution. Standing close to the wall, he thought of cutting the canvas and entering that way. It was useless. They would notice it at once.

ALREADY two hours had passed since they crossed the time chasm. They had but eight hours now to sweep Timosha's army away. He went toward the guard, raised his rifle and brought it down coolly and with great force on the man's head. Before the body hit the ground, he dragged it into the tent. Listening, he heard no sound of alarm from outside.

He heard a gasp of terror escape Dauna's lips, pivoted and saw her lying across a cot, her arms and ankles bound firmly.

"Be quiet," he said in a low voice. "It's Rick. Don't be frightened."

"Rick." She looked quickly about the tent. "But I don't see..."

He was at her side, one hand on her arm.

"I'm invisible. Your father's safe and I've come for you. I'll explain later."

He paid no attention to her questions, cutting the ropes quickly. He picked her up and placed her on her feet.

"But, Rick, it's your voice and not your body. I don't understand."

Forgetting where he was, O'Conner bent her to him and kissed her firmly on the lips.

"Now, is there any doubt?"

Dauna's face was white, but she understood that it was Rick's voice and Rick's body.

"The tank," he said. "We've got to get to it!"

"But Rick, I can't understand how..."

He pressed a finger to her lips.

"Don't try," he urged. "We'll go to the tank in the ravine."

"But how can I get there without them seeing me?"

He started to undress the dead sentry, taking only the trousers, cap and shirt.

"Here, get into these. Go out and walk straight down the path. If anyone speaks to you, say nothing. I'll be right behind you with a rifle."

SHE took the sentry's gun and with a frightened, questioning look at the spot where she knew Rick stood, opened the tent flap and went out. No one seemed to have noticed what had taken place. They went carefully down the line of tents.

A figure loomed up in the darkness.

The Jap's challenging voice was tense.

Dauna stopped with his rifle in her face. She kept her head down carefully. The Jap started to question her sharply in Japanese. Then his body stiffened suddenly and the rifle fell from his hands. He pitched forward against her and fell to the ground. A deep, bloody wound was in his back.

"Now," O'Conner whispered. "The ravine and quick."

A high pitched cry came from the direction of Timosha's tent. It was taken up quickly on all sides. They raced into the ravine, and into the cave.

"In, quick," O'Conner pushed the girl up the side of the metal monster, "They've found the dead sentry."

Timosha's soldiers were rushing about wildly now, lanterns were bobbing on all sides. Quickly, O'Conner lifted the turret and they dropped into the interior.

O'Conner found the controls and switched on the ignition system. Light flashed out in front of them and the engine started with a roar. He backed and twisted the tank out of its hiding place and they rumbled swiftly from the enclosure.

Dauna started to laugh hysterically.

"Hold it," he said. "Can you work the gun?"

"I'm sorry. No, I can't."

"And the laugh?" he asked.

"It's all so crazy," she answered. "I'm sitting here riding without a driver, and the driver who isn't, talks like Rick O'Conner."

They were on the road now, heading straight for the hospital.

"Any doubt of me, after that kiss?" he asked.

"Rick," she clutched his arm quickly.

"Jap tanks!"

He stared into the rear-view mirror and saw three heavy machines rumbling out of the camp and onto the road behind them.

"They'll shoot us out of this thing in three minutes," he said shortly. "I could escape, but they'll see you."

"Rick," she begged. "Take a chance. We'll burn if we stay in this."

The tanks were close now. Already one of them had opened fire sending a stream of lead overhead.

"Got an idea," Rick said grimly. "Hold tight. We may die, but we'll do it our own way."

She held his arm now, clung to what she could not see and found it strong.

THE road forked. On the left was the trail down the hill. The trail to the chasm. He jerked on the lever and the machine twisted around and plunged down the narrow trail. The tank behind turned also.

"They think they've got us trapped," he said.

The tank was ploughing and bucking its way ahead now, tearing through the small trees that got in the way. The Jap tanks had halted and soldiers poured from behind them, rifles firing with deadly precision. The dark slit of the gorge was under his lights.

"Out!" shouted O'Conner. "Climb out and across that vine bridge under cover of the tank."

Dauna clambered out, ran for the gorge. O'Conner went with her, and they plunged on across. Behind them the Japs blazed away at the tank. Finally one Jap threw a grenade and it exploded with a roar. Several Japs poked around in the ruins, then, obviously puzzled, they retreated.

"We made it," Rick's voice held no triumph. It was harsh and thankful for the manner in which they had achieved the impossible.

Dauna Wells lifted her head and saw brown cloth close to her eyes. Tears flooded down her face as she looked up at his rugged face.

"Rick," she said, her voice ringing with emotion. "Rick, darling, don't ever do that again, Rick. I can see you now, and I love you for what you've done."

O'Conner held her tightly.

"It's sort of funny," he said finally. "You can see me, and old Timosha's boys can't see you. Looks as though we can do business with him now."

AFTER Rick O'Conner had gone into the Japanese camp, Aben watched closely the events that followed. He knew that the American would work best alone. Yet, when so many shots were fired and the tanks roared on the road, he was sure that O'Conner had been captured. The Japanese were ready to march on Kweiyang.

Aben had fought for this opportunity to lead an invisible army. O'Conner had his personal problems and Aben had already done much to help him solve them. Now the Japanese would march to Kweiyang and destroy more Chinese cities. Also, the Japs were carrying much equipment and food that would be useful to Twung. Aben called Tex and Gab to him in the room downstairs. They spoke openly before Timosha, believing the little general to be harmless.

"We have already spent three hours of our time here," Aben said. "I think it time we finish what we came to do."

Tex was worried. He wondered if O'Conner had walked into a trap, but knew it was useless to mention it. Rick had a way of taking care of himself. Aben had treated them well. He deserved cooperation.

"Okay by me," he said at last. "How we gonna' handle this job?"

Gab Harnett had an idea.

"Look, Tex," he begged. "Maybe Rick is held prisoner. Why not try an exchange for this half-pint stinker. We'll make a trade and save Rick."

Aben looked interested and Tex nodded.

"Sounds good," he turned to Timosha. "If we stand you out there on the road where you can howl your head off, will you tell them to send Rick to us?"

Timosha stood up, some of the fright he had shown was vanishing.

"If he is in the camp, I will see that he goes free. In turn, you must let me return safely within my own lines."

Aben clutched the little general's arm firmly.

"There will be ten men with strung bows at your back," he snarled. "Make sure you do not betray us."

Timosha's voice was smooth and reassuring.

"There will be no mistake."

Aben motioned for a few of his men and quietly instructed them.

The group went out under the dark sky and across the road. At the edge of the camp, Timosha felt himself yanked to a rude halt.

"This will be far enough," Aben said. "Now—call your men."

Timosha raised his voice and a startled sentry came toward him on the run. Seeing the general standing alone and apparently unharmed, others followed.

"Keep your mouth closed until we tell you to talk," Tex said coldly. "Then talk fast and in English."

Timosha nodded and glanced nervously behind him. Were these actually men or ghosts, he wondered. Horrible, solid ghosts that ordered him about like a puppet. In the heart of the general was a bravery of sorts. This was his sacrifice. His last gesture of defiance in the face of the white men. At least twenty men stood before him now, wide eyed, wondering why their leader had called them.

"Now," Tex whispered close to the general's ear.

Timosha gritted his teeth and started to talk speedily in Japanese.

"Cut that," Tex's voice was ice cold in his ear. "English or I'll shoot."

Timosha ignored him, shouting now as fast as he could speak.

"Tell my officers to march against Kweiyang at once. Spare no one. You are faced by men who cannot be seen but who can be shot. Aim your guns at every open spot and fire. Use the flame throwers and tanks in the assault at Kweiyang ..."

A sob escaped his throat and before the frightened group of Japs, General Timosha sank down to the ground and died with his face in the dirt. A clean, dark bullet hole was in his heart. Before the report of the gun had died, the Japs were fleeing wildly toward their tents. Three of them flopped in the dirt before they had gone ten feet. Long, invisible arrows were buried between their shoulders. The remainder reached the encampment and disappeared, shouting wildly in the darkness.

"We will leave here at once," Aben said. "There must be a spot on the road to Kweiyang where we can stop their advance."

FIVE hours had passed since Tex Wallace had swung across the time chasm. Now, Aben and his army were stretched across a rocky promontory above the road. This way the Japanese army would come. Here, where the road narrowed and went between high rock- walls, the invisible bowmen were ready.

Aben sat alone with the two Americans, waiting impatiently for some sign of the advance.

"If they wait until daylight, we are lost," he said finally. "Five hours will make my men visible and armed only with arrows against powerful guns."

Tex grinned happily.

"We came, we saw," he said suddenly pointing toward Yunan. "Now they've come and we'll conquer."

Aben sprang to his feet, straining his eyes into the night. A faintly visible rise of dust was floating above the flat land.

"You know the plan," he said calmly. Tex nodded.

"Gab and I will take a dozen men to the far side of the road where it enters the cut," he said. "We'll make a lot of commotion and draw the tanks and heavy stuff that way. You sweep in and cut them off on the other side."

Aben nodded, and put out his hand.

"Good luck," he said. "I hope your friend is safe."

"Thanks," Tex shook hands and 'jacked away, anxious to get started. "If we don't meet again, tell the King of Twung it was nice being unseen for awhile. Gives a dope like me the chance to play king."

The Japanese troops were in sight now, moving at a slow pace along the road. Tanks led the column. Behind them the long line of marching men walked with guns ready for a surprise attack. After what had happened, the soldiers of Timosha were taking no chances.

Tex led his men quickly along the ridge and down into the desert. The oncoming troops were five hundred yards away, tanks ready to mow down anything that came into sight.

"Now!"

Tex raised one arm as a signal and the men behind him lifted their bows. A rain of arrows sped through the air and picked off men just behind the tanks. The column stopped moving and the men seemed at a loss to know what to do next.

Gab put his hands to his lips and howled a long, bloody war cry. It sounded like an Iowa farmer calling hogs, but it did the trick.

One Jap pointed in the direction of the sound and Tex's men all shouted loudly, making sure their voices would leave no doubt in the Japanese mind where the sound was coming from.

The tanks tipped down the steep bank from the road, gathered speed and came directly at them flame-thrower sweeping burning torches across the sand before them.

"On the double," Tex shouted and started running. They managed to escape the onrushing tanks.

A HIGH pitched scream came from a foot soldier on the road. Aben was attacking from the far side. With his bowmen long anxious to avenge the city of Twung, he was killing arrow for arrow. The Japanese troops were many, but against the invisible army of Twung, they were helpless. The tanks cruised wildly about, first in one direction and then the other, shooting blindly.

To Tex Wallace, it was a mad nightmare. His eyes saw the bowmen as they rushed into the battle, cut their men out cleverly and run away to evade the blind rifle fire.

It was like fighting blind men. Men who were angry and frightened at the same time. At last, close to morning, they were not men, but slobbering, hysterical animals who wandered about in the early daylight, seeking an escape that was impossible. The entire army of Timosha had been cut down during the night. Ten hours had passed since the invisible army of Twung had come for their revenge.

Tex did not know when he first became visible again, but he realized the strange sight must have unnerved the few Japs that were left. They fled across the sand as the men of Twung appeared among them. Timosha's army couldn't have committed suicide at its own hands with more dispatch.

They were safe then, a small army of men who had done their job well and were returning to their peaceful homes.

On the road to the village, they said little. Aben, still a man alone, had gained little pleasure from the slaughter. It had been a necessary thing. Tex and Gab were thinking of O'Conner and Dauna Wells.

"If they were alive when we left," Tex said finally, "the Japs would have murdered them after we shot Timosha."

Gab floundered along without a reply.

A car came toward them and the men halted and stood aside, to let it pass. It was the station wagon in which Marshall Wells and his daughter had first attempted to escape. It stopped, drawing alongside the three leaders. Marshall Wells climbed out stiffly.

"Tex," he said. "Did you manage...?"

Tex took the old man's hand.

"Aben's men wiped out the whole flock of them," he said. "Gab and I just sat in on the party."

Wells' eyes twinkled.

"Then you'll be glad that I brought these two along with me," he motioned toward the empty rear seat. Tex stared at the cushion, and an odd look passed over his face.

"Are you nuts?" he asked finally.

Wells smiled.

"I'm sorry," he said. "It is Rick O'Conner and Dauna. They returned to the hospital after you left."

Gab's mouth flew open.

"You mean to tell me those two are sitting there grinning at us and we can't see a thing?"

"That's what he's saying." It was O'Conner's voice. "Now you know how you didn't look last night."

Gab sighed.

"Golly, sure must look good on me," he confessed. "I'd like to take some of this invisible stuff home with me."

"But the time limit," Aben protested. "The spell works off in ten hours."

O'Conner's voice told them quickly what had happened. How he and Dauna had been on the opposite side of the chasm after their escape with the tank.

"I hope we'll meet again, Aben," he finished. "I'm sorry I missed the battle."

Aben stepped close to the car and put out his hand. O'Conner shook it.

"It was I who fought the battle," Aben confessed, "but you were responsible for many things that happened."

A clear, feminine voice came from O'Conner's side.

"I'll say he was," it was Dauna Wells. "And he's going to be busy from now on."

Gab and Tex stood very still, listening to the faint affectionate little sounds that came from the seemingly empty seat.

"Sounds like that invisible business is being used unfairly," Gab said finally. "What goes back there, Rick?"

A happy chuckle—then the sound of a kiss.

"Two more hours before they can see us," O'Conner's voice sounded very happy. "Let's make those boys envious."

Dauna Wells sighed contentedly and the station wagon turned around and started homeward toward the hospital.

THE END