another word Branasko hurled himself forward. Johnston held his breath in horror, for Branasko's foot had slipped as he jumped. The Alphian had struck the opposite ledge, but not with his feet, as he intended. He clutched it with his hands and hung there for a moment, struggling to get a foothold in the emptiness beneath him.
“It's no use, I am falling; I can hold no longer!” And Johnston,—too terrified to reply,—heard the poor fellow's hands slipping from the rock, causing a quantity of loose stones to go rattling down below. With a low cry Branasko fell. An instant later Johnston heard him strike the ledge beneath, and heard him cry out in pain. Then all was still except the echoes of Branasko's cry, which bounded and rebounded from side to side of the chasm, and grew fainter and fainter, till it was submerged in the roaring below. Then there was a rattle of stones, and Branasko's voice sounded: “A narrow escape!” he said faintly. “I am on another ledge”—then after a slight pause, “it is much wider, I don't know how wide. Are you listening?”
“Yes, but are you hurt?”
“Not at all. Simply knocked the breath out of me for a moment. There is a cave behind me, and (for a moment there was silence) I can see a light ahead in the cave. I think it must be the reflection of the internal fire. Come down to me and we will explore the cavern, and see where the light comes from.”
“I can't get down there!” shouted Johnston, to make himself heard above a sudden increase in the roaring in the chasm, “there is no way.”
“Wait a moment!” came from the Alphian. “This ledge seems to incline upward.”
Johnston stood perfectly motionless, afraid to move from the ledge either to right or to left, and heard Branasko's footsteps along the rock beneath. “All right so far,” he called up, and his voice showed that he had gone to a considerable distance to the left, “the ledge seems to be still leading gradually upward. I think I can reach you.”
Fifteen minutes passed. The lone American could no longer hear Branasko's footsteps. Johnston was becoming uneasy and the hot air was causing his head to swim. He was thinking of trying to retrace his footsteps to a place of more security when he heard footsteps, and then the cheery voice of Branasko nearly opposite him across the chasm:
“Are you there?”
“Yes.”
“It is well; I have discovered a good pathway down to the cave, and a pool of fish besides. I have saved some for you. I was so hungry I had to eat. Now, you must jump over to me.”
“I cannot,” declared the American. “I cannot jump so far; besides, you failed.”
Branasko laughed. “I did not leap in the right direction. It is this point on which I am now standing that I should have tried to reach. Come, I will catch you.”
Johnston could not bear to be considered cowardly, so he stepped to the verge of the chasm and prepared to jump. His head felt more dizzy as he thought of the fathomless depths beneath, and the rush of hot air up the side of the cliff took his breath away, but he braced himself and said calmly: “All right, I am coming.” The next instant he sprang forward. Branasko caught him into his arms and they both rolled back on the level stone.
“Good,” cried the Alphian, trying to catch his breath, which Johnston had knocked out of him by the fall. “You did better than I; you are lighter.”
“Where shall we go now?” asked Johnston, regaining his feet and feeling of his legs and arms to see if he had broken any bones.
“Down this winding path to the place where I saw that light. I want to understand it. But you must first eat this fish. It is delicious. They are swarming in the pools below.”
“And water?” said Johnston.
“An abundance of it, and as cold as ice.”
As Branasko preceded him down the tortuous path, Johnston ate the raw fish eagerly. Presently they came to a deep pool of water, and both men threw themselves down on their stomachs and drank freely. After this they proceeded slowly for several hundred yards, and finally reached the entrance to the cave in which Branasko had seen the light. At that distance it looked like the light of some great conflagration reflected from the face of a cliff.
They entered the cave and made good progress toward the light, for it showed them the dangerous fissures, sharp boulders and stalactites. They had walked along in silence for several minutes when the Alphian stopped abruptly and turned to his companion. “What is the matter?” asked Johnston.
“It cannot come from the internal fires,” replied Branasko, “for the atmosphere grows cooler as we get nearer the light and away from the chasm.”
Johnston was too much puzzled to formulate a reply, and he simply waited for the Alphian to continue.
“Let's go on,” said Branasko; and in his tone and hesitating manner Johnston detected the first appearance of superstitious fear that he had seen in the brawny Alphian.
VIII
As Thorndyke watched the flying machine that was bearing his friend away a genuine feeling of pity went over him. Poor Johnston! He had been haunted all day with the belief that he was to meet with some misfortune from which Thorndyke was to be spared, and Thorndyke had ridiculed his fears. When the air-ship had become a mere speck in the sky, the Englishman turned back into the palace and strolled about in the vast crowd.
A handsome young man in uniform approached and touched his hat:
“Are you the comrade of the fellow they are just sending away?” he asked.
“Yes. Where are they taking him?”
“To the 'Barrens,' of course; where do you suppose they would take such a man? He couldn't pass his examination. You are not a great physical success yourself, but they say you pleased the king with your tongue.”
“To the Barrens,” repeated Thorndyke, too much concerned over the fate of his comrade to notice the speaker's tone of contempt; “what are they, where are they?”
The Alphian officer changed countenance, as he looked him over with widening eyes.
“Your accent is strange; are you from the other world?”
“I suppose so,—this is a new one to me at any rate.”
“The world of endless oceans?”
“Yes.”
“And the unchanging sun—forever white and——?”
“Yes; but where the devil is the Barrens?”
“Behind the sun, beyond the great endless wall.”
“Do they intend to put him to death?”
“No, that would be—what do you call it? murder; they will simply leave him there to die of his own accord. And the king is right. I never saw such a weakling. He would taint our whole race with his presence.”
Without a word Thorndyke abruptly turned from the officer and hastened
