each twenty or thirty feet in diameter.
“The sun cannot be far away now,” remarked the Alphian.
“Is it not lighted?”
“I presume not; I think it comes through in darkness. The light is saved for its passage over Alpha.”
“Would it not be as safe for us to attempt to walk through the tunnel to the palace of the king?”
“Never; it would be over fifty miles in utter darkness. There may be a thousand trestles and bridges over frightful chasms: for the most part, I have heard the tunnel is a natural channel or a succession of caverns united by tunnels. The other is the safer way, though it certainly is risky enough.”
Louder and nearer grew the rumbling noise, and a faint light began to shine from the tunnel and flash on the cliff opposite.
“It is the sun's headlight,” explained Branasko.
Johnston was thrilled to the centre of his being as he saw the light playing over the polished tracks and cables and illuminating the walls of the great tunnel.
Suddenly there was a deep, mellow-toned stroke of a bell in the sun, and, as the two men shrank involuntarily into the deeper shade of the cliff, the great globe, a stupendous ball of crystal, five hundred feet in height, slowly emerged from the mouth of the tunnel and came to a stop under the opening in the rock which led to the space above.
“What had we better do now?” said Johnston.
“Wait,” cautioned Branasko, and he drew the American to a great boulder nearer the sun, from behind which they could, without being seen, watch the action of the crowd of workmen that was hurriedly approaching. They placed ladders of steel against the sides of the sun and swarmed over it like bees.
“They are cleaning the glass and adjusting the lights,” said the Alphian; “wait till they go round to the other side. Don't you see that square opening near the ground?”
The American nodded.
“It is the door,” said Branasko, “and we must try to enter it while they are on the other side. Let us slip nearer; there is another rock ahead that we can hide behind.” Suiting the action to the word, Branasko led the way, stooping near to the ground until both were safely ensconced behind the boulder in question. They were now so near that they could hear the electricians rubbing the glass.
One who seemed to be superintending the work opened the door and went into the sun and lighted a bright light. From where they were crouched Johnston and Branasko caught a view of a little hall, a flight of stairs, and some pictures on the walls.
Presently the man extinguished the light and came out.
“They are removing their ladders from this side,” said Branasko in a whisper. “Be ready; we must act quickly and without a particle of sound. Run straight for that door and climb up the steps immediately.”
The men had all gone round to the other side, and no one was in sight.
“Quick! Follow me,” and bending low to the earth the Alphian darted across the intervening space and into the doorway. Johnston was quite as successful. As he entered the door he saw Branasko crawling up the carpeted stairs ahead of him, and, on his all-fours, he followed. The first landing was large, and there in the wall they found a closet. It would have been dark but for a dim light that streamed down from above. Branasko opened the closet door. “We must hide here for the present,” he whispered.
They had barely got seated on the floor and closed the door when a bright light broke round them and they heard somebody ascending the stairs. The person passed by and went on further up. The two adventurers dared not exchange a word. They could hear the footsteps above and the sound of the electricians outside as they polished the lights and moved their ladders from place to place.
“If he should stay, what could we do?” asked Johnston, after a long pause, and when the footsteps sounded farther away.
“There are two of us and one of him,” grimly replied the brawny Alphian.
Johnston shuddered. “Let's not commit murder in any emergency,” he said.
“It would not be murder; every man has a right to save his own life.”
Nothing more was said just then, for the footsteps were growing nearer. The man was descending. He crossed the landing they were on and went down the last flight of stairs and out of the door.
Branasko rubbed his rough hands together. “We are going alone,” he said with satisfaction.
There was a sound of sliding ladders on the walls outside. The workmen had finished their task. A moment later a great bell overhead rang mellowly; the colossal sphere trembled and rocked and then rose and swung easily forward like the car of a balloon.
“We are rising,” said the Alphian, in a tone of superstitious awe. Johnston said nothing. There was a cool, sinking sensation in his stomach and his head was swimming. Branasko, however, was in possession of all his faculties.
“We shall soon be through the shaft we first discovered and throw our light over Alpha.” As he spoke the space about them broke into blinding brightness and for a few moments they could only open their eyes for an instant at a time. After a while Branasko opened the closet door and they went up the stairs.
The first apartment they entered was most luxuriously furnished. Sofas, couches and reclining-chairs were scattered here and there over the elegant carpet, and statues of gold and marble stood in alcoves and niches and strange stereopticon lanterns, hanging from the ceiling threw ever-changing and life-like pictures on the walls. The light streamed in from without through small circular windows. After they had walked about the room for some minutes, the Alphian pointed to a half-open door and a staircase at one side of the room.
“I think it leads to some sort of observatory on top,” he said. “I have heard that when the royal family makes this voyage they are fond of looking out from it. Suppose we see.” Johnston acquiesced, and Branasko opened the door. From the increased brightness that came in they were assured that the stairs led outward.
Ascending many flights of stairs and traversing a narrow winding gallery which seemed to be gradually sloping upward, they finally reached the outside, and found themselves on a platform about forty feet square surrounded by iron balustrades. Above hung impenetrable blackness, below curved a majestic sphere of white light.
XII
The sunlight was fading into gray when the princess turned to leave Thorndyke. Night was drawing near.
“Have they assigned you a chamber yet?” she paused to ask.
“No.”
“Then they have overlooked it; I shall remind the king.”
Her beautiful, lithe form was clearly outlined against the red glow of the massive swinging lamp as she moved gracefully away, and Thorndyke's heart bounded with admiration and hope as he thought of her growing regard for him. He resumed his seat among the flowers, listening, as if in a delightful dream, to the seductive music from bands in different parts of the palace and the never-ceasing sound in the air which
