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Roy Glashan's Library
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Based on a painting by Jules Tavernier (1844-1889)
Amazing Stories, September 1945, with "The Mysterious Crater"
Jim Winter lunged forward, but it was obvious that he was
too late; June Freemont screamed as she fell backward.
JIM WINTER rode easily in the saddle. He was lanky and the realization of his own height may have caused him to hunch down, shoulders bent forwards, arms hanging limply at his sides. On the trail behind him, he could see June Freemont, slim, at home on the back of her white mare, her long dark hair floating back in the moonlight. As he looked back, she flashed him a smile. "Grand night, isn't it, Jim?" He nodded.
"What's Bob think about it?"
Bob Talmud, fifteen, freckled, called from his position well to the rear, "Uncle Jim, how much farther?"
"Perhaps half mile," he said. "It's beyond that last ridge."
He pointed ahead where the trail climbed abruptly and was lost in the distance. They rode on and the night was silent save for the clop-clop of the horses' hooves against the graveled trail. The ridge seemed to grow larger and the moon rose behind it. The sky was very dark, with a Wyoming moon bright against the darkness. The horses slowed their pace and halted at the top of the ridge. They seemed ill at ease.
The air was filled with a pungent, burned odor. June rode up and halted at Winter's side. Together they stared down into the huge, mysterious crater. The girl caught her breath sharply.
"Jim—I didn't realize it would be as large as this."
They waited for Bob to reach them. Then Winter swung down easily from the saddle.
"I don't think anyone realizes," he admitted. "And there are a lot more things I'd like to know about it."
The crater was about a mile across, a huge, cup-like depression in the earth. Below, the moon outlined huge boulders and smooth, soft surfaces. Every inch of ground below the rim was dead black in color.
"The Mysterious Crater," newspapers had called it for the past week since Winter first discovered the place.
June dismounted and came to Winter's side.
"What caused it? That is, what's your guess?"
Winter shook his head. He was sure of one thing. Greater minds than his had been unable to fathom the cause.
"You know as much as I do," he admitted. "The papers say nothing but a huge falling body could have made that hole. I guided one group of scientists up here yesterday. They haven't had time to come to any definite conclusion. They took measurements and went away shaking their heads. So far, they're stumped."
She waited, and he went on.
"I've a hunch that this can't be explained by purely scientific study. That's why I suggested we come up tonight, before too many people have covered the ground."
He turned to Bob Talmud.
"Well, boy, if we are to be the first explorers, we'd better get started. Are the ropes ready?"
Talmud grinned.
"Sure are," he said.
June Freemont's hand was on Winter's arm. He turned, and was startled by the fear and uncertainty he found in her eyes.
"Jim—are you sure this is all right? That there is no danger?"
"Nothing to worry about," Winter insisted. "I'm puzzled, that's all. If a meteor hit here, why wasn't the vibration of the area felt and recorded? Why didn't science have a record on their machines of the exact moment the crater was formed?"
She waited.
"It seems to me," he said finally, "that the disturbance may have come from below, and not from above. That's what I want to find out. There may be a vent or shaft somewhere down near the bottom."
"But there's no trace of an opening from here."
"I know," he admitted. "That's why I promised Bob that we'd have a look before the world snatches our private exploration away from us. After all, this is my ranch. We are entitled to a little fun."
June stiffened suddenly, becoming frightened and not knowing why. She was determined that they take her with them.
"And you expect me to wait here at the rim, content to watch you two go down to—well—down there without knowing what you'll find?" His eyes twinkled.
"Without you at the top, we might not get out again," he said. "A rope and someone to handle it is mighty important."
June smiled uncertainly. "Jim Winter," she said, "you have a way of making me do exactly as you wish."
For a moment his eyes searched hers, and his gloved hand brushed her arm. Then Bob was bringing a length of heavy rope and shouting excitedly.
"All set, Uncle Jim? Let's lower away."
Winter stepped away from the girl.
"Okay," he said with enthusiasm. "It's up to you, June. I'm cinching the rope to Corny's saddle. We'll slide down to that slope fifteen feet under the rim. When we give the signal, ride Corny away from the rim, slowly. That'll be our elevator, coming up."
He was already busy, cinching the end of the rope to the saddle horn on the horse. Corny whinnied a little and tried to sidestep. Then he stood very still as Winter made the knot fast.
WINTER himself went down first, hand over hand with the rope curled about his knees. He hit the dust below the rim, struggled to keep a foothold and a cloud of black cinders rose about him. Choking, he waited until the dust settled, then jerked lightly on the rope.
"Okay, Bob," he shouted. "Come down."
Unlike the air at the top of the rim, down here it was dead and hushed. His voice died against the walls. He felt something on the rope, then Bob came down and Winter grasped him around the waist and stood him on the ground.
The boy was gasping for breath.
Winter looked up. He could see June Freemont's face peering over the edge of the pit.
"Don't go away," he called, "we'll need you in a little while."
He started slipping, and sliding toward the bottom of the pit. The dust was worse near the bottom. It billowed up about them, hiding the sky. Winter wondered if they dared go all the way to the bottom. Bob was choking. When the descent seemed hopeless, the ashes cleared and the slope became hard, black rock. Two-thirds of the way to the bottom, the heat had been intense. It had baked everything a polished ebony, so hard that their boots failed to make an impression.
The sky was a round oval that seemed to end at the edge of the pit. The world was gone as completely as though this place was all that remained. A huge, perfectly square boulder stood in the direct center of the crater's bottom.
It was about eight feet square, without a mar on the surface. It had not been visible from the top of the pit for it blended into the background.
"It couldn't have fallen from above," Winter said, "without burying itself, or breaking into a thousand pieces."
Bob laughed.
"Darned if I know where else it could have come from," he said. "It isn't like any of the native rocks."
Winter didn't reply. He moved around it slowly, kicking at the solid foundation on which the square rock stood.
He had gone half way around when a loud "click" sounded behind him. Then sounds of a quick scuffle on the floor of the crater came from the far side of the rock. Winter started to run. Something swung out in his path and he hit it, hard, his face smashing into it. He went clown. A startled cry came from where he had left Bob. That was all he knew.
He came to, staring up at a moon that was high over the crater. Where was Bob? Far away on the west rim, he knew that June was waiting. It must have been a full hour since he was knocked out. That much time would explain the change in the position of the moon.
He didn't know what had struck him or why Bob Talmud had cried out. He was sure now, of one thing.
The pit had been made from underneath, and not by a falling object. The pit wasn't a natural formation.
Someone, or something, had caused the large stone to "click" and swing around abruptly. It had been the sharp movement of the stone that knocked Winter down. Bob had cried out, and now he was gone. Gone below the stone, into a world that was so hot that it had burned a vast crater in the surface of the earth.
JIM WINTER had thought that June Freemont would understand—would know that he could do nothing about Bob. He had stood on the rim of the canyon, dirty and exhausted, trying to explain how useless it was to go back without proper equipment.
"But—you can't just leave him down there, Jim; it isn't human. Bob is your nephew; he depends on you. He's been taken away by someone. We've got to try to help him."
He shook his head.
"I fought with that stone," he said quietly. "I tried to wrench it away with my bare hands. I tried—and I was helpless. I've got to have help—and explosives."
She mounted slowly, without further conversation. She was riding down the trail before he had finished coiling the rope. He didn't try to speak to her again. He understood how June felt.
It had been his suggestion that Bob come with them and that they explore the pit.
Inside Jim Winter a burning anger was slowly fanned white hot. He would come back and blast that stone out of the pit.
He was broken hearted over Bob's disappearance, but he knew that no man could have anticipated what had happened there in the crater.
A DOZEN men were working about the stone. The midday heat was intense, sending heat waves racing across the dull, black surface. No breeze came down from above. It was the heat of the prairie intensified ten-fold. These men were friends of Jim Winter—friends of the boy Winter had raised from childhood. Men who were hard, and prepared for anything.
"I'm darned if this doesn't sound like a dream," Frank Briggs said stubbornly. "Packing dynamite around a rock that is supposed to lead to hell—or something just as bad." Briggs was Winter's neighbor. He owned fifteen thousand acres of range land, a bad temper, and a share in June Freemont's affections.
Winter sat alone, worrying about Bob and wondering what the explosion would reveal. A full box of dynamite had been planted around the base. Now, because a stone could be jarred loose from the top, another box was placed above the stone and packed with soil to keep it from exploding without effect.
Sheriff Nate Beasely was here, and three of his men, all carrying shotguns. Winter's own gun was loose in the holster. Sam Newall, skinny, squint-eyed in the sun, said:
"I guess we got enough powder around it. She ought to move ten feet."
They moved away, up the sides of the crater. They flopped on their stomachs and hugged the ground, waiting. Newall lighted the fuses and started to run. He flopped beside Winter.
"Get your head down, Son," he said. "There's a lot of powder down there."
A dull, earth shaking "BOOM" came from below them. Dust flew into the air, hiding the sun. Winter stood up. He heard Newall cussing loudly.
"Didn't even jar the durn thing."
The stone was there, as it had been before. Two boxes of dynamite hadn't moved it.
THEY tried three times. June came in the afternoon and Briggs helped her into the pit. Sheriff Beasely was getting anxious to leave. He and Briggs were beginning to wonder just what had happened last night in the shadows of the crater.
"Look here, Jim," Beasely said. "You sure that darned rock moved? You sure Bob didn't wander away somewhere and get killed in a slide?"
Winter's eyes narrowed.
"It moved," he said.
Briggs stood at June's side where she sat on a small boulder.
"Jim, you didn't hide that boy and forget where to look for him, did you?" Briggs' voice was accusing.
Winter turned slowly.
"If you're looking for trouble, Frank," he said slowly, "say so. No use beating around the bush."
June stood up. Her eyes were hard and bright. Winter thought he saw tears in them. She stood in front of Briggs.
"There is enough trouble now," she said. Her lips were white. "I know that Jim wouldn't hurt Bob purposely. There—there may have been an accident—"
The sheriff was staring at Winter. "What you got to say about it, Jim? We made sure that nothing would move that stone. You claim it moved easy last night, and swallowed Bob under it. You sure something else didn't happen to Bob? You sure you ain't holding something back to keep out of trouble?"
Winter was standing alone now, his back to the stone.
"I think more of Bob Talmud than anyone else on earth," he said. "I brought him down here last night on what I thought was a harmless bit of exploration. I don't expect you to believe what happened. But I'm not giving up yet. The boy is under that rock and I'll reach him or die trying."
He stared straight at June. Her eyes wavered and she turned away.
Sam Newall picked up a box of fuses and dynamite caps.
"Guess you won't need me any more," he said. "That boulder ain't gonna move again, not if I can't blow it out."
Behind Winter, a clear "click" sounded beneath the stone. He stepped away from it quickly, his gun springing into his hand. He heard Sheriff Beasely swear, and saw from the corner of his eye that Briggs had whipped around, a dozen feet up the trail, his big six-gun in his hand. Briggs' other hand was on June's arm.
The rock started to move.
THERE was no doubt of it. The black stone was rolling slowly away from its position, and as it moved, smoke started to streak up against its sides. The men behind him were alert, guns ready. Their eyes were wide with fright. No one doubted now that Jim Winter had told the truth.
Before Winter could fire at anything, a roaring flame shot from under the rock. It passed them in a wide, flaming band and swept toward Briggs and June. It was like a flame from a powerful torch, sweeping forward. Jailing over June Freemont's unprotected form.
As Winter's gun boomed, he knew that there was something, someone in that fire. Men with bright, flaming flesh. A black robe—or perhaps it was billowing dark smoke, fell over June, and as the flames touched Briggs, Winter heard his gun go off twice in quick succession, and a scream came from Briggs' blistered lips.
The fire retreated swiftly, sucked under the stone.
Winter stood there, gun held limply in his hand. The other men didn't move. The stone was closed once more, the fire crypt sealed.
But they were not watching the rock.
Up the trail, lying on its face, was the charred corpse of Frank Briggs. His gun was lying beside him, his body burned beyond recognition.
June was gone. She had gone beneath the stone, enveloped in the black cloud of smoke, sucked away by the roaring inferno of flame.
Florence Briggs said:
"Jim Winter, you're not kidding me a bit. My brother Frank was a stinker. He tried to steal June from you and he's tried for the past twenty years to pull every dirty trick on you that he could."
Winter stood near the stone fireplace in the big front room of the Briggs' ranch. He wasn't smiling, but the fiery-tempered little red head, Florence Briggs, brought a twinkle into his eyes. The twinkle vanished as he remembered what had happened in the pit.
"You didn't ask me to come here to talk about Frank," he said. "Sid Waldo said you wanted to see me about something important."
FLORENCE sat down on a log bench near the fireplace. She crossed her legs.
"Maybe I'm a darned fool," she said. "Maybe thinking as much of you as I do, I'd ought to let June go hang and go after you myself. You know I've loved you since I was a kid."
She wasn't smiling. Her dark blue eyes were troubled.
"But I can't do it," she went on. "June is one swell gal, and I think I can help you save her, if she can be saved."
Winter nodded.
"Go on," he said.
"You go on," she urged. "First I've got to know what you think of all this. What's happening below that rock?"
Winter shrugged.
"If I knew," he admitted, "I might know how to fight back. Someone or something dragged Bobby under it before I could save him. I didn't see anything but flame when the attack was made on June. Yet, Frank was burned on the spot while June was dragged away in that flame."
Florence shuddered.
"It—it must have been pretty awful."
"It was," Winter said. "I realized we couldn't do anything about it at the time. I've been doing research work on the under earth activity of this region for years."
Florence nodded.
"I know," she said. "I remember how you used to be more interested in books than necking."
Winter's face reddened slightly.
"The heat of the underworld seems to come closest to the surface of the earth here in Wyoming. I've made charts showing all known geysers, hot springs and hidden streams. According to the study that has been made, there was never a trace of under-surface heat on the site of the present crater."
He paused, staring at her intently.
"Call me crazy, Florence," he said, "but I think that crater was formed by artificial force, a force controlled by creatures dwelling beneath the crust of the earth."
To his amazement the girl's expression never changed.
"I had that figured out last night," she said. "That's why I know I'm the only one that can help you enter the cavity under that rock."
He waited patiently for her to continue.
"In the first place, these fire-creatures, if that's what they are, stole Bobby. Why didn't they take you also?"
"I wondered about that," he said. "Perhaps I was just lucky."
She shook her head.
"No," she said. "Once perhaps, but what happened the second time? Frank was killed because he had to be dead for them to reach June. No one else was attacked. They choose women and children but they aren't interested in men."
Winter left the fireplace and started to pace up and down the room. She watched him, wondering.
"Look here," he said suddenly. "If you're trying to say that being a woman, you also would be taken, forget it. I won't have ..."
"You don't have a thing to say about it," she interrupted. "Troops have been here from Camp Northern. They failed to blast that rock with high explosives. A number of people don't even believe your story. The Sheriff is going crazy trying to convince the public that the story he tells is true. But no one can move that rock.
"Yes, we have to assume that if June and Bobby were drawn into the cavity, they were wanted—alive. Something protected them. The same something would protect me—but would probably destroy you.
"Jim—it's up to you and I. I'll take the chance. You must equip yourself with an asbestos suit, try to follow me, and take your chances. Are you game?"
Winter stared at her. There was agony in his expression. He knew why Florence Briggs wanted to help. Knew that it had nothing to do with interest in June. Florence loved him and was trying to help him.
"I have to do something," he admitted. "It doesn't look as though I have much chance to pull the trick alone. On the other hand, your reasoning seems sound enough. I suppose if you really want . . ."
She was at his side, hand on his arm, staring up at him earnestly.
"We'll go tonight," she said. "Jim—somehow I feel that it is you who is taking the risk and not I. They'll want me as they did Bobby and June. You'll have to take the chance of being killed at once. Please protect yourself and try to be cautious."
"I will," he said.
He was thinking of the roaring flame that shot out at Frank Briggs, sucking life from his body.
"MY ONLY chance," Jim said, "is to follow you into the pit without being seen. They must be able to see what goes on above the rock. I'll try to follow you down and keep out of sight. When and if the rock opens, I'll get under it somehow when they come after you."
Florence was standing before him on the rim of the pit. The moon shone down on the blackened hole, making the ebony stone at the bottom of the crater glow in the pale light. The prairie was deserted and lonely. It was close to midnight, and Florence Briggs drew the woolen jacket closer about her neck. She wore whipcord riding breeches and riding boots. Her face was pale and eager in the moonlight.
"We'd better go down now," she said. "Here's to us—may we come out of this on our feet."
Winter helped her into the rope sling and lowered her down the edge of the crater. He saw the spurt of dust rise as she hit the slope below, and prepared to go down himself.
This afternoon he had borrowed an asbestos fire-fighting suit from the oil well supply company at Cody. It was a cumbersome, heavy outfit with a helmet fitted with an eye-piece.
He followed Florence down the rope, then as she waited for him, donned the suit and pulled the mask over his face. Inside the suit the heat was stifling. He motioned her down the trail. He had placed a belt around his waist. In it was his revolver, old-fashioned, heavy, that he had handled since he was a boy. He fingered it lovingly, hoping it would get him through.
By this time, Florence had reached the flat area at the bottom of the crater. He stopped about ten feet from the stone, after crawling toward it slowly, keeping in the protection of the rocks.
He wiped the dust from the eyepiece and watched the girl. She went around the stone twice, pushing at it with her hands, acting curious, as though it had drawn her here alone. The act was good. She hadn't looked at him since she left the rim. She made no move to betray his presence.
Five minutes went by. Florence had sat down near the boulder, staring up at it. She looked very small and helpless, and for a moment, pride surged within Winter. Then he remembered June. Somewhere below the rock, hidden in God knew what kind of a trap, June and Bobby were waiting for him—waiting to escape the hell into which they had been drawn.
What was that?
The moonlight shimmered on the rock, as though it had moved a fraction of an inch. He stiffened, crouching forward on his hands and knees, ready to spring to his feet.
The stone moved three or four inches. The girl didn't move—didn't seem to notice.
Then he saw it—the thin, flickering tongue of flame that shot up and spread out on the ground. A huge cloud of black smoke surged from under the rock, billowed out and covered Florence Briggs. He heard her scream as he sprang to his feet and plunged into the center of the cloud. He couldn't see. He ran straight forward across the smoke covered ground, and hit something yielding, like a soft, dark blanket. It gave under his weight, then enveloped him completely, choking him, dragging him toward the rock.
He thought he heard Florence scream again, but in the crackling flames, he couldn't be sure.
Then he stumbled and fell over something. He was falling.
He hurtled over and over, down and down. His body landed in a smothering, yielding mass and he felt all air cut off from his face. He fought to get the helmet away from his head, but it was useless. Then he fell forward into a smothering pit and lost consciousness.
JIM WINTER awakened with a terrific, searing heat beating into his skull. He groaned and turned over slowly. His arm hit something hard and it reminded him that his entire body, still encased in the heavy suit, was throbbing with pain. His helmet had loosened and perspiration bathed his face.
He thought he was somewhere below the rock. Around him in the darkness he could see shadowy rocks.
He lay still for several minutes, waiting for his breathing to become regular again. He removed the helmet to find that although the heat must be at least
110 degrees, he could breathe with some comfort. The cave was dark, save for the reflection of rising flame in a distance. He stood up, grasped a rock near him and held on. When he was strong enough, he left the natural hiding place and started to search around the cavern.
It was small, hardly fifteen feet across. On the far side flames shot up from a round pit, lighting the place. The heat came from this pit. There was oxygen. He could breathe.
He explored the walls carefully, but could find no way out.
Yet, he reasoned, Florence and her captors had come this way. June and Bobby had been carried down through this chamber into some other place below.
He had to find his way out. Had to follow them.
He knelt on the edge of the pit of flames. He noticed that although fire shot up every few minutes, that there were short intervals when the flame disappeared from sight. Also, the bottomless pit was the only opening left in the cavern.
It was a wild suicidal idea, but he had to take a chance. He had to follow his friends through that single entrance to the underworld.
The more he thought of it, the more sure he was that the fire pit was his only way out. He started to time the seconds between flames. Ten—fifteen—sixteen. For seventeen seconds the flame died and the hole was black and seemingly bottomless. He slipped the helmet over his head and waited. The flame climbed upward, making crazy designs across the roof. Then it was gone. He took a deep breath, slipped his legs over the edge of the hole and said:
"Here goes nothing." He dropped.
THE Temple of Flame was ready.
Another queen would be added to Boona's collection. Boona, King of the Fire People, sat on his throne in the sacred circle of fire. The Temple of Flame was huge. Its columns held the roof of the cavern, and through the crevices in the floor, fire shot up and roared in triumph to the people of Boona's realm.
The guards came from the entrance, tall, flame-colored men with their spears that shot fire. They came in close formation and in the midst was the Queen who had been captured above. The Queen sat on a feathered throne, carried by ten Flame Guards. She sat at ease, her head tipped back, her slim lithe body clad only in the fire-robe that left little to the imagination, and set the heart of Boona aflame with admiration.
At the foot of the forty thrones, the Fire Guards halted and the carriers came on, up the ten ebony steps to the throne circle.
The Queen was lifted gently from her moving throne and carried to the one closest Boona. The King allowed his eyes to follow her as she was placed beside him. Then, smiling quietly, he compared her with the thirty-eight who graced the throne circle. Each of them was perfect. Round, deep-eyed and slim, chosen from perfect stock. Each, Boona thought with a smile, very quiet and dignified.
And the new Queen was silent with the others. On earth, her name had been June Freemont. One would not recognize her now, for she had changed. The new Queen had, as had the others, been placed in the Fire Pool. She was dead and would never speak again. She would not trouble the ears of King Boona, for his wives must respect him and never speak in his presence, They were for his eyes only, and he would never have to await their presence.
Thirty-nine of the Forty Queens of Boona had been embalmed in the Fire Pool. Their bodies would remain perfect forever. Their mouths silent.
FLORENCE BRIGGS held her breath as the choking fire seemed to envelop her body. Then she saw that within the flame, men walked. Tall, normal men who wore red robes of an odd material, and carried a huge black net which they threw over her head. Oddly, underneath the black net, she felt none of the fire that at first had threatened to burn her. It was cool and protecting. Through her mind surged thoughts of Jim. Could he follow her?
She felt herself snatched up in strong arms. They were carrying her down, swiftly, surely. Down where? Under the rock of course, but where? She couldn't be sure.
She didn't struggle. Fear welled up within her, choking off any other emotions she might have experienced. She was rigid in their arms. Then they placed her on her feet. She struggled with the net, for she couldn't see through it. She was able to breathe, but the thought of not knowing what would happen next—not being able to see her captors, frightened her.
The net fell away from her.
She stood in a small circle of men. Their bodies were slim and well-molded. They seemed normal, but for the bright red suits that fitted them snugly from head to foot.
Or were they suits?
The light was dim, but suddenly she knew that the men themselves were red. Their skin was bright crimson.
One came close to her and tipped up her chin with his fingers. His face, brilliant red, was covered with perspiration. His smile was devilish.
"The King will see this one," he said with enthusiasm. "She is of good quality."
A chuckle went around the group. Another voice said:
"Don't go too close, Wanno, or the King may preserve you also for his collection."
Wanno, the one who had touched Florence, whirled around. His anger was obvious.
"The King chose Wanno as your leader," he said, "because he knows Wanno has good taste. Another remark like that and you will face the Fire Pool."
They shrank away from him, for he was evidently a person of power. He picked up Florence easily in his arms.
"Lead the way to the Temple," he snapped.
In his arms, the girl had time to see the way they were going. The cave was narrow and the walls were covered with flickering lights. It was like a strange trail into Dante's inferno. Crevices in the floor sent up steam and occasionally shot up tongues of flame.
FOR a long time they walked in silence. Wanno's arms were tightly about her and she tried to ignore the interest in his eyes. She recognized a possible friend and a terrible enemy in the slim, well-built youth of the fire world into which she had been thrust.
The trail widened and they came out into a new world—a world under the vast dome of the cavern.
It was dark here, but these strange men went ahead swiftly. She guessed that they could see their way, for they never stumbled. Occasionally one of them called back to Wanno, asking him if his burden was light and perhaps pleasant. Wanno's arms only went more tightly about her and he disdained giving them a reply.
They reached a wall, and it was drawn open by some unseen force. Florence found herself staring into the magnificent fire hall of the Temple of Flame.
The Temple was deserted, save for a huge stone dais some distance from her. On the dais she could see many thrones, and seated on them, the figures of lovely girls.
As they went closer, Wanno let her stand and walk alone. He stayed dose to her, his hand on her arm. The grip was gentle and firm.
To her right and left, the floor was split by crevices, and from them fire roared upward, sending flames to the roof. The place was very hot.
King Boona saw them come. He rose slowly, a thin, bony figure of a man, his skin red, his robe hanging limply around his body. Boona's eyes were black and deep-set. His tongue came out to lick thin, bloodless lips.
She walked very slowly, her eyes on him. Somehow he seemed to draw her ahead and she knew that Wanno had stopped and was no longer at her side.
"Welcome, new Queen."
She heard his words but their meaning did not sink into her brain. She moved onward, automatically, up the ten steps to face him. He met her, one red, bony hand thrust from under the robe. His voice was loud, carrying to Wanno and those who waited at the lower step.
"You have done well. Wanno. This one will complete the collection. Take her at once for preparation. The Fire Pool will be active in a short time."
As though in a dream, she heard Wanno.
"You are sure, mighty King, that you wish this one? That she will pass the test of beauty?"
There was something warning in the voice. She watched the King, waiting for him to answer Wanno. The Kings lips formed slowly into a sneer. His eyes were half closed.
"Does Wanno wish to judge the beauty of the King's property? Does Wanno think he is a better judge for the forty thrones?"
Silence—deathlike and puzzling. Then Wanno's reply came, low and respectful.
"Wanno is sorry. He had not meant to. . . ."
The King's arm was upraised.
"Then take her to the mistress of the Fire Pool—at once."
She knew that the motion of his arm was meant to dismiss her. She started to turn and her eyes stopped on the girl nearest him. There were many of them, ail lovely, yet until now the King's eyes had held her, forbade her to look at anything but him.
She stared at the silent, motionless women. Then her eyes stopped on June Freemont.
"June," her cry was forced, hoarse with fear.
Before they could stop her, she had crossed the short distance to June Freemont's side and her hand was on the girl's arm.
She stood there for a full minute, never moving, hardly daring to breathe. The men behind her made no move to take her away.
She studied the wide, unblinking eyes, the perfection of the girl before her. The flesh under her touch was cold and lifeless. Her eyes left the figure before her and went slowly around the wide circle, stopping momentarily to search for some sign of warmth in the others.
Thirty-nine dead women. The dead court of King Boona.
She was to be the fortieth dead queen.
A scream welled from her lips, but she did not realize what she did. The Temple of Flame vanished as inky blackness closed about her.
It was Wanno, the Flame Guard, who gathered her limp body from the stone floor and carried her away—to the Mistress of the Flame Pool.
WHEN Jim Winter plunged feet first into the hole in the cavern floor, he half expected to land in some boiling cauldron. This was the entrance to the world of the fire people.
He landed, after an eight foot drop, on a hard stone floor. Painfully he got to his feet and stared about. Above him, fire was already spouting from the walls, shooting upward to the spot he had just left. Over his head, the roof was low. In a distance the cave widened. He went forward discarding the asbestos suit. It was safe enough here, though the cavern was uncomfortably warm.
He came out into a huge, high-roofed cave and saw the Temple of Flame in a distance. Its columns reared upward to the roof of this strange world. Even at a distance, it was evident that the Temple was some huge, very beautiful place of worship. He went toward it, wondering at the barren cave, and the complete lack of life within it.
Close to the Temple of Flame, he stopped short, then sought the shelter of a rock outgrowth. One of the doors had been flung open and men were filing out. Beyond them, he saw the flames that lighted the temple and caught a glimpse of rare, colorful pillars that held up the dome.
His attention focused on the small band of men who were leaving the place. Among them was a tall youth, and in his arms, Winter recognized Florence.
The small procession of men moved away from him, away from the temple, down to the lower levels of the cavern.
He started after them, careful to stay out of sight as much as possible.
They marched for some time, and
Winter kept his distance. Then the cavern narrowed into a winding tunnel and it became very dark. After them, around turn after turn, always' downward, always to where the heat was more intense.
Then Jim realized why the cave had been so deserted.
The party came out into a lower cavern, and here for as far as he could see, were a series of steaming pools, flanked by low steps and filled with red bathers. He couldn't enter this lower cave, for there was no place to hide. He stayed close to the wall in the tunnel, staring out at the pools. The cavern was at least half a mile long and within it, dozens of separate pools sent steam into the hazy air. Around the pools, men and women lounged, to stare with interest as Wanno carried the earth girl among them.
The people arose slowly, following, clustering around the largest pool. Here no one had bathed. Here the water was boiling, and flames burst upward occasionally, shooting from the surface of the water.
On the edge of this pool, the procession halted. Wanno placed Florence on her feet. The girl staggered and fell against him and he held her up.
Winter watched, not daring to go to her rescue, wondering what would happen next.
"To the Fire Pool," Wanno said in a clear, loud voice, "goes the fortieth queen of Boona. May she always be as lovely."
Winter could hear the words clearly, for the people were silent and the cave carried sound well.
He heard Florence cry out as women came forward and disrobed her. Winter knew that he must act soon.
Wanno picked Florence up and was walking toward the pool that shot flames. Winter started to run. He was half crazy with anger. He didn't care what happened. He had to try to save the girl.
The next few minutes were dim in his mind. He remembered hitting the tall man in the back with all his weight, just as Wan no was about to toss Florence into the flames. He heard the roar of anger from the red people and felt the man topple backward. Before Winter could stop, he had stumbled and fallen head-long into the steaming pool.
FLORENCE opened her eyes slowly, say Wanno standing above her and closed them again, pretending to sleep.
"You need not be frightened," Wanno said. "You will remain alive as long as I can protect you."
The tone of his voice amazed her. She had never heard anyone speak more tenderly. Her eyes opened quickly, to study his honest, patient face.
"I—I don't understand."
She stared around the tiny room. It was hardly more than five feet square, evidently carved from solid stone. The entrance was a low tunnel. She had been lying on a black, cloth-like substance that cushioned her head.
"Do not try to understand me," Wan-no said, and sat down beside her on the floor. "You see, this is my own hiding place. I constructed it when I was very small. It has served me many times."
She stared at the warm, scarlet face, and thought that if it were not for his color, the man would be handsome. Memories of the Fire Pool began to flood back. The sudden attack from behind, the fall, in Wanno's arms.
"You were going to destroy me," she said. "Why have you changed your mind?"
He shrugged.
"Boona, King of the Fire People, is very powerful," he said. "Boona demanded your preservation for his fortieth throne. At the pool, the people were so interested in the white man that I was able to slip away with you and escape. It was my first opportunity to escape Boona's wrath."
She didn't hear his last words. White man? Why hadn't she guessed?
"A white man was at the pool?" she asked.
He nodded.
"Somehow he entered the caves of the Fire People and followed us there. He attacked me but slipped and fell into the Fire Pool. He will trouble no one now."
She knew it was Jim Winter. It could be no one else. She tried to keep her voice firm. Tried not to falter.
"What happens to those who fall into the pool?"
Wanno smiled.
"They die," he said simply. "The heat is intense. The Fire Pool has a curious power. It makes the body hard. It preserves it forever. That is why Boona wants his brides dipped in the pool. They remain lovely and he can stare at them for all time. Boona hates age. He loves youth."
Tears sprang into her eyes.
"Then the white man is dead?"
Wanno grinned.
"I didn't remain long, but I believe it was quite obvious," he said. "They search for us now, but they will never find us. When the search dies down, we will escape to the tunnels of the lower people and stay there until Boona forgives."
BOBBY TALMUD was terribly frightened. Since that first night he had descended into the mysterious crater, strange things had happened to the fifteen year old boy. Bobby Talmud was a page in the court of Boona. For days he had been forced to dress as the Fire People dressed, and carry vast trays of food to the sour-faced King.
He had done all this because he had no plan for escape and didn't dare defy these strange people who treated him as a small, unimportant animal.
Bobby knew every passage in the Temple of Fire. He spent hours working in the great kitchen over the fire pits and in the hall on his way to Boona's throne.
He knew that the lovely women who sat around the King were not alive. They smiled and looked pretty. They never ate and if you got close to them, you saw horror in the soft eyes, and a rigidness about the face.
The full horror of his position had burst upon Bobby Talmud. Tonight he had entered the temple to find a new Queen. He was staring at her now, the dead eyes, the willowy perfection of June Freemont. June, whom he had loved and who had been with him and Uncle Jim a few nights ago—the thirty-ninth dead Queen of Boona.
Bobby stared for a long time, tears in his eyes, at the body of the girl. The Boona's voice warned him that he must not linger near the thrones, and Bobby Talmud went slowly back to the kitchen—determined to kill the King and escape from this world beneath the black stone.
"THE earth people are gullible," a far away voice said. "Drawn into the stone, they cannot understand that such a place exists."
The voice interested Jim Winter. He was drifting about in mist. The mist cleared gradually and his body seemed to lower itself on a soft cushion that clung to him and held him suspended half in space, half on something solid.
He opened his eyes and saw a vast, darkened room. The walls were black.
The voice was saying:
"This body is of no use to Boona. This earth man isn't exactly beautiful, according to Boona's rating."
A chuckle, evidently from someone other than the man who had spoken.
"A pretty problem, this Fire World," the second voice said. "We might burst out of it and destroy the world."
They both laughed long and hard, as though the idea was pleasing.
"But we cannot disturb Boona," the first said. "Boona would die if he had to leave the Temple of Fire, it is only the heat that tempers his old body. He couldn't stand the upper world."
Footsteps sounded near him, and Winter closed his eyes. He remembered falling into the pool. Now his body was stiff, but he could feel life flowing back into him. He could flex his fingers and toes, though he dared not do so.
"Bathed in the Fire Pool," a voice said very close to his head. "This time, it was no bathing beauty, but an oddly colored upper world man who felt the soothing qualities of Boona's pool. I wonder if his body is preserved? He was lifted from the pool long before the required time had elapsed."
The other chuckled.
"Boona was angry," it said. "Boona wanted to dispose of the corpse at once. He cannot think of a man touching the waters of the pool. It has contaminated the Fire Pool."
"At least, Boona has not captured his fortieth queen."
"Ah," was the answer. "Wanno is a smooth one. He ran away with his prize and will escape among the lower people. No one will tell Boona."
Winter's mind was working furiously. Wanno, the man who held Florence, had escaped. Florence was safe for the time being.
He could hear the clink-clink of instruments. He could flex his arms and legs. His hips and torso still felt cold and dead. Thank God they had pulled him from the pool before it was too late.
The men were walking toward him. He tensed, hoping his muscles would respond when the time came.
"We shall start with the heart," said the man who had spoken first. "I am interested in the construction, and what might have happened to it under compression."
Under compression? The words puzzled Winter, but so had everything that had happened thus far.
He tensed for the spring. Opening his eyes, he stared upward at the point of a glistening knife.
HE ROLLED over suddenly, heard a cry of amazement, and landed on the floor, bent double. He came up, right fist aimed at the face above him. The blow connected. The knife sprang across the room and clattered against the wall. Winter didn't wait for the second man. The door was close and he dashed through it and down a long tunnel. He knew that an alarm would be given. He rounded the first corner to find that the tunnel ahead was deserted.
Dashing headlong into a small doorway, he connected with someone who cried out in pain and went down beneath his weight.
In that one second, he saw Bobby lying on the floor below him.
"Bobby," he said, unable to believe his eyes.
"Uncle Jim!" the boy's voice was filled with relief. "I was trying to run away—to hide. I'm awfully glad you're here. We've got to find Florence."
He helped the boy to his feet.
"You've seen her? You know where she is?"
Bobby nodded eagerly.
"They say at the court that a guard, Wanno, has stolen her and taken her to the lower people. I know the way." "And June?"
There was hope in Winter's voice.
Bobby's lip started to quiver. His eyes were bright.
"June is dead," he said slowly. "She's one of the Queens of Boona."
WANNO did not go to the lower people. For many hours he hid in the cave. He dreamed of having the girl for his own, but Wanno was of the Fire People. Now he was banished from the kingdom and he was bitter.
"We are powerful," Wanno told Florence. "We plan the destruction of the world. Now that I am banished from Boona's halls, I cannot escape. If we hid with the lower people, shortly Boona would find and destroy us both. I will not give you up to him."
Florence tried to play the game coolly. With Jim gone, she had one job left. She must find Bobby. If she could not do that, she must attempt to destroy as much as she could of this Fire Kingdom, and then die herself.
She must stay with Wanno until she knew when and how to gain the information she needed to harm Wanno's people.
"Why can't we escape to the upper-world from which I came?" she asked Wanno. "We would be safe from Boona there."
Wanno chuckled.
"Listen," he said, "and I will tell you a story. I am a rogue and a scoundrel. Boona has hated me for many years. I defy him and he knows I am well liked. Therefore, he leaves me alone.
"The Fire Kingdom is concentrated and powerful. Many years ago, earth started to grow hotter inside. The crust will break some day, and the Fire Kingdom will be spread forth above ground to rule the surface. The upper earth people will be destroyed. Your own books tell you that.
"When the time comes, I was to have been powerful. Now, I will be less than dirt in Boona's eyes.
"I am angry at Boona and yet I cannot escape him. Therefore, you will go with me. I have a plan to destroy the Fire Kingdom and get my revenge. I will die doing something I have longed to do. Punish Boona for his cruelty to me."
The girl shuddered.
"And am I to die with you?"
He nodded, still smiling.
"Don't be sad," he said. "It will be wonderful to destroy Boona."
He picked her up easily and started for the entrance.
"I HEARD Boona tell about the pit," Bobby said. "I was in the throne room one night. He said that when the fire in the pit grew bright, it would burst out and destroy the earth. Then the Fire People would go out on the crust of the earth and rule it. Boona said he would take his queens to the surface and establish his court there."
Jim stood well back from the roaring fire, the boy's hand in his, his mind full of the terror and hopelessness of their situation.
He should be trying to escape. He couldn't leave until Florence was found. Bobby had brought him this way, down the long dark tunnel toward the catacombs of the lower people, and finally, through the heat-ridden chamber of the fire pit.
The pit was sending up a steady, blasting fire that hit the ceiling and mushroomed out over the room. Cold down-drafts saved them from the worst of the heat. The flames flickering against the wall, the steady roar from below, were frightening.
"We'll have to go on," Winter said grimly. "If you think Florence came this way we must find her first. Later, we'll think about what can be done to save ourselves and the others."
He thought of the thousands of people above them, knowing nothing of this destruction, living innocently on top of a raging volcano of death.
Bobby led the way onward past the pit and into another tunnel. Suddenly he halted, drawing Winter behind an outcropping of rock.
"Wai!" he whispered. "After you've been here a while you can sense anyone who is close. People are ascending from below."
They waited. Winter could hear voices, then Florence and the tall, red man, Wanno, came into the light of the fire chamber.
They went directly to the edge of the pit. Wanno's voice was clear.
"We will smother the pit with fire blankets," he said. "That was Boona's plan. To do it now will force the flame to seek escape. If it cannot it will blow the kingdom apart."
Winter admired the girl. He could see U in her pale, set face, the small clenched fists.
"Will it destroy us—here—in the chamber?"
Wanno nodded.
"The fire blankets are packed in chests near the wall. They are ready for the great day. We must hurry."
While Winter and the boy hid in the shadows, Wanno led the girl to the wall of the cavern. He opened stone panels and dragged forth huge folded blankets. They stacked them on the edge of the pit. For an hour they toiled, and at last the blankets were piled in a high wall all around the pit. Wanno turned to the girl
"You will leave first," he said. "When I push the blankets into the pit, the cave will become still and airless. Then the crust of the world will explode. I could not bear having you here when that happens."
He took her arm firmly.
"Good-by, earth woman."
She stared up at him, her eyes wide with fright.
"You mean you're going to...?"
He chuckled.
"Into the pit with you," he snapped. "I do not fear death. Why should you fear it?"
He started to push her toward the fire.
JIM WINTER left the wall with quick, gliding foot-steps. He was close to them when Wanno saw, and dropped the girl. Wanno pivoted swiftly.
"So the white one wasn't embalmed in the Fire Pool!" he cried.
Winter was on him, both fists flailing. He caught Wanno under the chin, sending him sprawling back toward the wall. With a snarl. Wanno came to his feet and started to run toward Winter. Winter, his back to the pit, waited. Wanno jumped into the air and came down with both feet against Winter's chest. Winter groaned and sank down, almost falling into the blankets that bordered the
Pit-He rolled over quickly, caught Wan-no's arm and threw him on the floor. While the boy and Florence watched with fascination, Winter twisted the red man over on his back and pinned him down.
Wanno, with one last lunge, worked his way free and rolled out of reach. As he did so, he hit the pile of blankets and both men started to slide. With a scream, he hit the smooth edge of the pit and tried to catch himself. It was too late.
He sank out of sight, and the fire blankets started to slide downward after him. The pit was suddenly filled with a choked rumble.
Winter staggered to his feet and grasped the girl.
"We've got to get out of here," he shouted. "Bobby—follow—up the tunnel."
Behind them, the pit roared a protest against the choking blanket that had fallen down its shaft. For a moment, Winter thought they would escape—that the explosion had been avoided.
Then the walls of the tunnel turned blood red and intense heat surged past them, traveling upward in a hot wind toward the Temple of Flame.
The wall trembled and an explosion rocked the cavern and sent them sprawling on the floor.
None of them heard or felt what followed.
JIM sat up slowly, staring around him. He was safe but very weak. A short distance away, Florence was sprawled on her back, staring upward dully at the star-studded sky. Bobby kneeled at her side.
Winter stood up and moved slowly toward them.
"You all right?" he asked. She looked at him dully. "Jim—I don't understand." He was sitting beside her, smiling. "I think I do," he said. "We arc back in the crater. Home is only a short distance away."
He pointed at the dark rim of the prairie far above them.
"Before us is the rock—the same black rock that dynamite would not move—split wide open."
"And there's no hole beneath it," Bobby Talmud said in a puzzled voice. "How did we get into the world of the Fire People?"
Winter felt much better now. They were safe. Nothing could harm them now.
"We didn't," he said. "I remember wondering why that stone was so hard. Then I heard the Fire People say that they were curious to know about my heart, as it was 'compressed'. I didn't understand what they meant. Now I think I do. The Fire World wasn't as huge as we thought. Instead of it being large, we were made very small.
"From somewhere, probably the very center of the earth, a huge rock was forced up. The pressure on it had been so great, that it was harder than any surface we have ever seen.
"People captured us and took us to a strange, new world. Yet, when that world explodes, we find ourselves sitting back on earth, safe and sound. The rock, the one we could not crack, is broken wide open. There is no opening beneath it, no opening through which we might have gone."
"Then the Fire People actually lived within...?"
Florence was beginning to understand.
"The ebony rock," Winter said, "we were forced through an atomic change, and became so small that tiny pits—minute to the point where they would not show in a microscope—were like huge tunnels to us.
"One thing saved us from death. When the explosion came, it released us into our normal surroundings. The air caused us to return to normal size, and the explosion that would have killed us, were we normally as small as Boona and his followers, only served to release us from the Fire Kingdom."
Tears glistened in Bobby Talmud's eyes.
"Aunt June didn't come back," he said.
Winter's eyes were troubled.
"The power of the Fire Pool was real enough," he said. "But June did not suffer. She was dead long before the explosion came. We can be thankful for one thing. The Fire World, which seemed to be a threat to the world's safety, was actually powerless to harm us. The stone was forced up from below by sudden heat that blackened the pit it created. King Boona and his thirty-nine queens are gone, destroyed by the heat Boona thought would end the world."
He stared at the quiet, lovely girl at his side.
"I have Boona's fortieth queen, and he'll never be back to claim her."
Roy Glashan's Library
Non sibi sed omnibus
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