LITMIR.BIZ

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has never faced such danger. All our dream is about to end. Go!”

      Without a word the young man hastened away, and it seemed scarcely a moment before the sunlight streaming in at the oval glass roof changed from green to white.

      The king pushed Ornethelo impatiently aside; his eyes held a dull gleam of despair, and he seemed to have grown ten years older. He touched a button, and the awful scene at the pit gave place to a bright view of the capitol, which was plainly seen from its crowded centre to its scattering suburbs. The squads of “protectors” stood like armies ready for battle, their rigid faces still toward the awful west.

      “They are ready—the signal!” yelled the king, waving his hand, “the signal!” Ornethelo caught his breath suddenly and tottered as he went across the room, and touched a button on the wall. The king's eyes were glued on the mirrored view of the capitol, his trembling hands held out, as if commanding silence. Then a deafening trumpet blast broke on the ear. The masses of citizens pressed near the edges of the roofs and close against the walls along the streets, as the protectors rushed into the flying-machines. Another trumpet-blast, and away they flew, a long black line, every instant growing smaller as it receded in the murky distance. The princess, white and silent, led Thorndyke and Johnston back to the balcony. The line of machines was now a mere thread in the sky, but the ominous cloud in the west had increased, and fine sand and ashes were added to the fall of soot.

      “What was that?” gasped the princess. It was a low rumble like distant thunder, and the balcony shook violently.

      “An earthquake,” said Thorndyke. “I am really afraid there is not a ghost of a chance for us; the water running into the fire is sure to cause an eruption of some sort, and even a slight one would be likely to enlarge the opening to the ocean.”

      Johnston nodded knowingly as he looked into his friend's face, but, considering the presence of the princess, he said nothing.

      “My brother, Prince Marentel, is the greatest man in our kingdom,” she re marked. “He has taken enough explosives to remove a mountain.”

      “How will he use them?” asked Thorndyke.

      “I don't know, but I fancy he will try to close the opening in some way.”

      The latter slowly shook his head. “I fear he will fail. The fall must be as voluminous as Niagara by this time.”

      “My father must have lost hope, or he would not have stopped the sun,” sighed the princess, and she cast a sad glance towards the west. The rolling clouds had become more dense, and the rumbling and booming in the distance was growing more frequent. A thin gray cloud passed before the sun, and a dim shadow fell over the city.

      “That is a natural cloud,” said Thorndyke; “it comes from the steam that rises from the pit.”

      “It is exactly like our rain clouds,” returned the princess; “but it comes from the steam, as you say. But let us go into the Electric Auditorium and hear the news. As soon as anything is done we will hear of it there.” The others had no time to question her, for she was hastening into the corridor outside. She piloted them down a flight of stairs into a large circular room beneath the surface of the ground. It was filled with seats like a modern theatre, and in the place where the stage would have been, stood a mighty mirror over an hundred feet square. She led them to a private box in front of the mirror. The room was filled from the first row of chairs to the rear with a silent, anxious crowd. In the massive frame of the mirror were numerous bell-shaped trumpets like those on the ordinary phonograph, though much larger.

      “Watch the mirror,” whispered Bernardino as she sat down.

      And at that instant the surface of the great glass began to glow like the sky at dawn, and all the lights in the room went out. Then from the trumpets in the frame came the loud ringing of musical bells.

      “They are ready,” whispered Bernardino; “now watch and listen.”

      The pink light on the mirror faded, and a life-like reflection appeared—the reflection of a young man standing on a rock in bold relief against a dark background of rugged, slabbering cliffs and the forbidding mouths of caves.

      “Waldmeer!” ejaculated the princess, and she relapsed into silence.

      The young man held in his hand a cup-shaped instrument from which extended a wire to the ground. He raised it to his lips, and instantly a calm, deliberate voice came from the mirror, soft and low and yet loud, enough to reach the most remote parts of the great room.

      “The ocean,” began he, “is pouring into the 'Volcano of the Dead' in a gradually increasing torrent. Prince Marentel hopes temporarily to delay the crisis by partially turning the torrent away from the pit into the lowlands of the country. For that purpose a portion of the endless wall is being torn down, and Marentel's forces are placing their explosives. After this is done an attempt will be made to stop the original break. There is, however, little hope. The prince has warned the king to be prepared for the worst.”

      At this point, the speaker turned as if startled toward the red glare at his right. He quickly picked up another instrument attached to a wire and put it to his ear. A look of horror changed his face as he turned to the audience and began to speak:—“The opening in the wall is not progressing rapidly. Workmen are drowning and the tunnel of the sun is filling with water. It will be impossible for the sun to go through to the east.”

      Just then there was a far-away crash, and instantly the mirror was void. There was now no sound except the low groans of women in the audience and the subdued curses of maddened men. The silence was profound. Then the mirror began to glow, and the image of another man took Waldmeer's place.

      “It is the Mayor of Telmantio,” whispered the princess, “a place near the western limits of Alpha.”

      He held a like instrument to the one used by Waldmeer, and through it spoke:—“Venus, one of the great stars, has been shaken from the firmament. It fell in the suburbs of Telmantio, and many lives were lost.”

      That was all, and the figure vanished. Presently Waldmeer reappeared. He seemed to be standing nearer the pit, for the entire background was aflame; volumes of black smoke now and then hid him from view, and a thick shower of ashes and small stones were falling round him. He spoke, but his voice was drowned in a deafening explosion, and the whole landscape about him seemed afire. In the semi-darkness hundreds of protectors could be seen struggling in the rushing water, moving stones and building a dam. Waldmeer again faced his far-off audience and spoke:—“Prince Marentel has turned the course of the stream. All now depends on the success or failure of his final test with explosives, which will take place in about half an hour.”

      “We ought to go outside again,” suggested Bernardino, as Waldmeer's image disappeared; “my father might want us.”

      Seeing no one in the king's apartment, they passed through it to the balcony. Half the sky was now covered with mingled fog and smoke, and the sun could be seen only now and then. A drizzling rain was falling—a rain that brought down clots of ashes and soot. But this made no difference to the throngs in the now muddy and slippery streets. They stood shivering in damp and soiled clothing, their blearing eyes fixed hopelessly on the lowering signs in the west. Johnston noticed a bent figure crouched against a wall beneath them. It was Branasko.

      “Who is it?” inquired the princess.

      “Branasko, the companion of my adventures,” he replied.

      “Call him to us,” she said eagerly, and the American went down to the Alphian.

      As they entered together, Branasko uncovered his dishevelled head and bowed most humbly.

      “You look tired and sick and hungry; have you eaten anything today?” she asked.

      “Not in two days,” he replied.

      The princess called to a frightened maid who was wringing her hands in a corridor.

      “Give this man food and drink

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