The Diamond Thunderbolt
_By H. Thompson Rich_
"_Good Lord! What's this?_"]
[Sidenote: Locked in a rocket and fired into space!--such was the fatewhich awaited young Stoddard at the end of the diamond trail!]
Prof. Norman Prescott, leader of the American Kinchinjunga expedition,crept from his dog-tent perched eerily at the 26,000-foot level ofthis unscaled Himalayan peak, the third highest in the world. Withanxious eyes he searched the appalling slopes that lifted another2,000 feet to its majestic summit, now glistening in the radiance ofsunset.
Where was young Jack Stoddard, official geologist and crackmountaineer of the party?
That morning Professor Prescott and Stoddard had set off together,from Camp No. 4, at the 22,000-foot level. Mounting laboriously butswiftly, they had reached the present eyrie by noon. There Stoddardhad left the leader of the expedition and pushed on alone, toreconnoiter a razor-back ridge that looked as though it might provethe key to the summit.
But the afternoon had passed; the daring young geologist had promisedto return in an hour; and now it was sunset, with still no sign ofhim.
Professor Prescott sighed, and a bitter expression crossed hisbronzed, lined face. Just one more evidence of the cursed luck thathad marked the expedition from the start!
Well he knew that he must head down at once for Camp No. 4 or riskdeath on this barren, wind-swept slope, and equally well he knew thatto go would be to leave his brave companion to his fate, providing hehad not already met it on those desolate ridges above.
Yes, and another thing he knew. The report of this latest disasterwould mean the doom of the expedition. The terrified, superstitiousnatives would bolt, claiming the "snow people" had struck again.
"Gods of the Mountain" they called them, those mysterious beings theyalone seemed to see--evil spirits who kept guard over this toweringrealm, determined none should gain its ultimate heights.
* * * * *
Tensely Professor Prescott stood there on that narrow shelf of glacialice, peering off into the sunset.
A hundred miles to the west, bathed in the refulgence of a thousandrainbows, rose the incredible peak of Everest, mightiest of allmountains, yet less than 1,000 feet higher than Kinchinjunga. Anddown, straight down those almost vertical slopes up which theexpedition had toiled all summer, lay gorges choked with tropicalgrowth. Off to the south, a scant fifty miles away, the British healthstation of Darjeeling flashed its white villas in the coppery glow.
An awesome spectacle!--one that human eyes had seldom if ever seen.Yet from the summit, so invitingly near!...
Perhaps, even now, Stoddard was witnessing this incomparable sight. Topush on, to join him, meant triumph. To head down, defeat. While tostay, to wait....
Grimly, Professor Prescott left his insecure perch and headed up overthat razor-back ridge whence the young geologist had vanished.
As he proceeded cautiously along, drawing sharp, quick breaths in therarefied upper atmosphere, he told himself it was ambition that wasleading him on, but in his heart he knew it was not so. In his heart,he knew he was going to the rescue of his gallant companion, thoughthe way meant death.
* * * * *
A hundred yards had been gained, perhaps two--each desperate footholdfraught with peril of a plunge into the yawning abysms to left andright--when suddenly he spied a figure on a twilit spur ahead.
Panting, he paused. It must be Stoddard! Yet it seemed too small, tooghostly.
Professor Prescott waved, but even as he looked for an answeringsignal, the figure vanished.
"My eyes!" he muttered to himself. "I'm getting snow-blind."
Then he called aloud:
"Jack! Oh, Jack! Hello!"
Only an echo greeted the call, and he did not repeat it but pushed onsilently, conserving his energy.
Was there truth after all in those persistent rumors of the nativesabout the snow people who inhabited the upper slopes of the Himalayas?His tired brain toyed with the idea, to be cut off sharply by thecheery call:
"Hi there, Professor! Hi-ho!"
And gazing upwards toward a jutting crag not ten rods beyond, he sawyoung Stoddard etched against the darkening sky.
* * * * *
In a few joyous steps, Professor Prescott had reached his audaciouscompanion.
"Thank God!" he gasped. "I'd given you up for lost."
"Why give me up for anything so unpleasant?" was the genial reply."I've just been enjoying the view."
"Then--then you reached the top?" with a quick intake of breath.
"Well, not exactly, but I feel on top of the world, just the same."
The professor's spirits fell.
"Then I can't see--"
"Of course you can't see!" interrupted Stoddard. "But look at this!"
As he spoke, he drew from a pocket of his leather jacket somethingthat caught the last light of the dying day and refracted it withweird brilliance.
Professor Prescott blinked.
"Well?"
"A diamond. As big as your fist! And here's another!"
His left hand reached into his jacket and produced a second sparklinggem.
"But--but I don't understand--"
"Granted. But you will, when I tell you I've found the DiamondThunderbolt!"
The professor gave a shrug of scorn.
"And no doubt you've seen the snow people and have had a perfectafternoon, while--"
"No, I haven't seen any snow people, but I've had a perfect afternoon,all right! As I said, I've found the Diamond Thunderbolt; and here area couple of chips, picked up from around the edge."
* * * * *
So saying, Stoddard extended his two specimens toward ProfessorPrescott, who disdained at first to touch them.
"Nothing but quartz!" was the deprecating comment. "The snow hasaffected your eyesight, as it has my own."
"I'll say it's affected _yours_, if you don't recognize diamonds whenyou see them. But wait till I show you the old Thunderbolt itself!It's--"
"More quartz!" brusquely. "Be sensible, Jack. This Diamond Thunderboltthing is a pure myth, like the snow people business. Just because thissection of India is known as The Land of the Diamond Thunderbolt youthink you're going to find some precious meteor or other, whereas theterm applies merely to the Lama's scepter."
"Granted it does,"--a little impatiently--"but did it ever occur toyou that where there's smoke, there's fire? Meteor is the word! Onestruck here once--a diamond meteor!--and I've found it. Take a look atthese two specimens and see what you think."
Whereupon Professor Prescott accepted the glinting gems from his youngfriend--to gasp a moment later, as he held them tremblingly:
"Good Lord--they're diamonds, to be sure! Where did you find them?"
* * * * *
Stoddard hesitated before replying.
"Not far from here," he said at length, moving off. "Come, I'll showyou."
But the professor stood firm on their narrow ledge.
"You must be crazy!" he exclaimed. "We'll have trouble enough now,getting back. It's practically dark already."
"Then what's the odds?" retorted the young geologist. "We've got allnight."
"But our friends at Camp No. 4. Even now, they must think we arelost."
"Then further thought won't kill them. Besides, we'll be back beforemorning--and they can't send out a relief party sooner."
"But any moment a storm may come up. You know what that would mean."
"Does it look likely?" scoffed Stoddard, waving his hand aloft."See--there's the moon! She'll be our guide."
Professor Prescott looked, saw a slender shallop charting her courseamong the stars, and for a moment was tempted. But speedily hisresponsibilities reasserted themselves.
"No, I can't do it," he said with finality. "I owe it to theexpedition to return as soon as po
ssible. Furthermore, there's thematter of the authorities. We assured the British we would adherestrictly to our one purpose--to scale Kinchinjunga."
"A mere formality."
"No--a definite order from the Lamas. They closed Mt. Everest, afterthe last expedition, you will recall. The Lama's scepter is veritablya diamond thunderbolt of power in this region."
Whereupon Stoddard's patience snapped.
"Listen!" he said. "I hurried away because I knew you'd be anxious,but I'm going back, if I have to--"
"And I say you're not!" The professor's patience, too, had snapped."I'm not going with you, and you're not going back alone! As theleader of this expedition, I forbid it!"
The younger man laughed raspingly, as he shook off the hand thatclasped his arm, and for a moment it looked as though the two wouldfight, there on that dizzy ledge above the world.
Then Stoddard got control of himself.
"Sorry!" he said. "I see I've got to tell you something, Professor.You think I'm merely the geologist of this expedition, but in fact I'ma secret service man from Washington, on the trail of the biggestdiamond-smuggling plot in history--and here is where the trail ends!"
* * * * *
Professor Prescott's astonishment at these words was profound. Hestood there blinking up at Stoddard, scarcely believing he had heardaright.
"You--you say you are--?"
"A detective, if you want. Anyway, if you've read the papers, you mustknow that for the past year or more the diamond markets of the worldhave been flooded with singularly perfect stones."
"Yes, I recall reading about that. They were thought to be synthetic,were they not?"
"By certain imaginative newspaper reporters, not by the experts, forunder the microscope they revealed the invariable characteristics ofdiamonds formed by nature--the tiny flaws and imperfections noartificial means could duplicate."
"But didn't I read something, too, about some anonymous Indian rajahwho was thought to be raising money by disposing of his jewels?"
"More newspaper rubbish! For one thing, British secret service mentraced the rumor down and satisfied themselves there wasn't a rajah inIndia unloading any diamonds. For another; no rajah could possiblyhave the wealth involved. Why, do you know that since this plotunfolded, over five million carats' worth have made theirappearance--and that means something like a billion dollars."
"Whew!" whistled the professor.
"Whew is right!" his companion agreed. "And not only have the diamondmarkets of the world been disorganized by this mysterious influx, butthe countries involved have lost millions of dollars in revenue, dueto the fact that the gems have been smuggled in without payment ofduty."
"But surely, my dear fellow, you don't connect this gigantic plot withyour discovery of--whatever it is you have discovered?"
"A diamond as big as a house! That's what I've discovered! And I mostsurely _do_ connect the plot with it. Did you ever have a hunch,Professor? Well, I had one--and it's worked out!"
"You leave me more in the dark momentarily!" declared the older man,glancing around as though to give his words a double meaning. "Whatwas your hunch, and how did it come to lead you here?"
Whereupon Stoddard told him, swiftly, for there was no time to lose.
* * * * *
When first assigned to the case, he said, he had been as baffled asanyone. But as he had studied the problem, one outstanding fact hadgiven him the clue. All the gem experts agreed that the mysteriousflood of smuggled stones was of Indian origin, being of the firstwater and of remarkable fire--in other words, of the finesttransparency and brilliance.
Therefore, since they were genuine and were seemingly coming fromIndia, Stoddard had concentrated his attention on this country,seeking their exact source. Investigation showed that there were nomines within its borders capable of producing anything like thequantity that was inundating the market.
But--and here was where the hunch came in--there was a district in theSikkim Himalayas of Bengal whose capital was Darjeeling--Land of theDiamond Thunderbolt. Why had it been called that? Was there somelegend back of it?
There was, he had learned. For though in modern times the phrase hadcome to apply merely to the Lama's scepter, as Professor Prescott hadpointed out, originally it had carried another meaning--for legendsaid that once a diamond meteor had fallen on the mighty slopes ofKinchinjunga.
That had been enough for Stoddard. He had followed his hunch, had gothimself attached to the American Kinchinjunga expedition--
"And that's why I'm here, and all about it," he finished. "Now, then,are you coming back with me and have a look at my Diamond Thunderbolt,or am I going back alone?"
A long moment the professor debated, before replying.
"Yes, I'll come with you," he said at length, extending his hand."Forgive me, Jack. I didn't know, or--"
"Forget it," said Stoddard shaking. "How the devil could you, till Itold you? But just one thing. Mum's the word--right?"
"Right!"
"And one thing more. It may be--well, a one-way trip."
"Forget it."
"O. K., Professor."
With a last warm handclasp, leaving them joined in a new bond offriendship, the two men moved on over that narrow, moonlit ridgeacross the top of the world.
* * * * *
It was a desperate trail, Professor Prescott realized after scarcely adozen steps. The ridge grew narrower, sheerer, and in places they hadto straddle it, legs dangling precariously to left and right.
Admiration for his gallant companion mounted in the professor'spounding heart, as they struggled on. Only to picture anyone eager toreturn such a perilous way, after once getting safely back!
Other thoughts occupied his mind, too, during the next half-hour. Morethan once he could have sworn he saw small, ghostly figures on theridge ahead. But he made no mention of it, for Stoddard didn't seem tosee them.
Now they gained the far end of that hazardous ridge, where a slopingshelf of jagged rock offered a somewhat more secure footing. Alongthis they proceeded laterally for some distance.
Suddenly Stoddard paused and called out:
"Ah--there we are!" He indicated a steep pocket to the left. "Have alook down there, Professor, and tell me what you see."
* * * * *
Prescott lowered his eyes to the depths below, to draw back with agasp--for what he saw was a vast phosphorescent glow, like a fallenstar.
"What--what is it?" he cried, in an awed voice.
And back came the ringing reply:
"The Diamond Thunderbolt!"
"But the radiance of the thing! It couldn't reflect that much lightfrom the moon!"
"No, and it doesn't. But there's nothing uncanny about it. Just what Iexpected the thing would look like at night. But come on, Professor.You haven't seen the half of it!"
The way led down the jagged, shelving slope, now, and the descent wastoo precarious for further comment.
Ten minutes passed--fifteen, possibly--when they reached a sheltered,snowless arena where titanic forces had clashed at some remote age.Fragments of splintered rock lay strewn in wild confusion--and amongthem, glinting in the moonlight, were bright crystals.
Picking up one, Stoddard said laughingly:
"One of Mother Nature's trinkets worth half a million or so!"
Professor Prescott blinked at it a moment, almost in disbelief, thenstooped and picked up one for himself--a diamond that would have madethe Kohinoor look like a pebble.
There was no doubting its genuineness. Even in the moonlight, itflashed and burned like a thing afire.
But as the professor turned his eyes at last from its dazzling facets,they failed him again--or so he thought--for half hidden behind ajutting crag loomed a huge cylindrical object, seemingly of metal.
* * * * *
For the space of two breaths, he stared
speechless, then gasped:
"Good Lord! What's that?"
Following his gaze, Stoddard saw it too.
"God knows!" he muttered, in a tense voice. "It wasn't there thisafternoon. Let's have a look at it."
Cautiously, not knowing what to expect, they advanced toward thesingular phenomenon.
Nearing, they saw that it was a mechanism some twenty feet at the baseand sixty or more feet high, pointed at the top.
"A rocket!" declared Professor Prescott. "Though I've never seenanything larger than a laboratory model, I'll gamble that's what itis."
"And I'll gamble you're right!" exclaimed Stoddard. "And one capableof carrying passengers, would you say?"
"Fully."
"Then I think we have solved the mystery of how these diamonds reachthe market. The question now is, who's back of this thing? And sinceour position here probably isn't any too healthy--"
He broke off and drew his automatic, as a small, ghostly figureappeared--seemingly from nowhere.
The professor saw it, too--saw it followed by another, andanother--and now he knew his eyesight had not failed him back on thatwind-swept slope above, either, for these were actual creatures,incredible as they seemed.
The snow people?
He did not know--had no time to find out--for with a rush, the strangebeings were all around them.
* * * * *
Stoddard levelled his pistol and called on them to halt, but they cameon--scores, hundreds now, seeming to pour out of some unseen apertureof the earth.
Once or twice he fired, over their heads, but it failed to halt them.They closed in, jabbering shrilly.
But though their words were a babel, their actions were plain enough.Swarming up, they overpowered the explorers by sheer numbers, andherded them with jabs of sharp, tiny knives toward a cavern mouth thatopened presently amid those eery crags.
Led underground, they found themselves proceeding along a frostypassage lit every few yards by a great chunk of diamond. Their dimglow seemed to be refracted from some central point beyond.
This point they soon reached--a great, vaulted chamber whosebrilliance was at first dazzling.
Its source, after the first moment or so, was obvious. It was comingfrom the roof, which was one vast diamond.
"You see where we are?" whispered Stoddard. "Under the DiamondThunderbolt! These people have tunneled beneath the meteor. Or else--"
"Their tunnel was already there, when the meteor fell," finishedProfessor Prescott. "But can it be possible such creatures could haveproduced that rocket?"
"I'm inclined to think anything is possible, now! But I'm sorry Idragged you into this, Professor. I--"
"Forget it! We're here and we'll face it together, whatever it is."
"You're a game sport!" Stoddard gripped the older man's hand. "We'llface it--and lick it!"
Further talk was interrupted by a stir among their captors. The ranksparted--and into that dazzling chamber stepped a tall, beardedpersonage whose aristocratic features and haughty bearing suggested aRussian of the old regime.
* * * * *
He strode toward them, smiling sardonically.
"Greetings, my friends! Nice of you to drop in on me while in theneighborhood." His English was suave, precise. "Professor NormanPrescott, leader of the American Kinchinjunga expedition, I believe."He paused and lifted inquiring eyebrows to his other guest. "And--?"
"Dr. John Stoddard, our geologist," came the answer stiffly. "And you,sir?"
"A fellow professor, you might say. Prince Ivan Krassnov. You haveheard of me, perhaps?"
Prescott had indeed. One of Russia's most brilliant and erraticscientists under the czar, the man had been permitted to continue hiswork for the Soviets, developing among other inventions, a rocketreported to be capable of carrying passengers. But some two years agohe and his rocket had vanished in the course of a test flight fromMoscow, and the natural conclusion was that he had either perished inthe sea or shot off the earth altogether, since no trace of the uniquemechanism was ever found.
"Yes, I have heard of you," said the professor, recalling thissensational story that had occupied the front pages of the world'spress for days. "And so it turns out that your rocket didn't come togrief."
"Not exactly--though as you can see, it landed me in rather aninaccessible spot," was the reply. "But quite an interesting one! Iwas well satisfied to let the papers report me missing. You canunderstand, yes?"
"I think I can, that part of it." While as for Stoddard, he wasbeginning to understand a great deal. "But these curious creatures?"he said, indicating the whispering, pigmy host that filled the cavern."You found them here?"
* * * * *
"They found me, rather!" corrected the prince. "But we get on quitewell together. They consider me a god, you see, since I, too, came outof the sky in a thunderbolt, as their great diamond once did,according to their legends."
"But who are they? What is their origin? Why are they so small, sopale?"
"Natural questions, Professor, but not so easy to answer. Who they areI cannot say, save that they are the snow people of nativesuperstition. Their origin? It is lost in antiquity. Perhaps they arethe remnants of some Tibetan tribe driven into the mountains byenemies, thousands of years ago. While as for their stature, theirpallor--these no doubt are the result of the furtive underground lifethey lead."
He paused, waited politely, as though for further questions, butneither spoke. Now that the main mystery was solved, the one questionuppermost in both their minds was what this suave, inscrutablenobleman was going to do with them--and that question neither cared toask, fearful of what the answer might be.
* * * * *
Finally Prince Krassnov spoke again.
"What, gentlemen--you have no further curiosity about me? Howunflattering! I thought perhaps you might want to know why I havechosen to maintain my headquarters here on Kinchinjunga, the past twoyears, and how I have been occupying my time. But I hold noresentment. I shall tell you, so that you will be prepared for what Iam going to propose."
He turned and addressed the pigmy host in what must have been theirown tongue. Then, facing his guests again, he said:
"Now, come. Let us retire to my private study, where we shall havemore leisure."
They followed him from that dazzling chamber and proceeded on down thecavern to a fork that ended about twenty paces further in a massivesteel-bound door.
There he paused and twirled a knob like the dial of a safe. After amoment there came a click, as of tumblers meshing, and a tug on theknob swung the door open.
The prince bowed.
"Step into my little apartment," he said.
They entered, to find themselves in a large oblong room furnished inSlavic luxury.
* * * * *
As they crossed a rich Oriental rug spread over the threshold, amusical gong sounded somewhere, and almost instantly two enormousCossacks sprang into view, to bar their way with rifles.
"My bodyguard," apologized Krassnov, shutting the door. "They arequite harmless, except to intruders. Just one of the littleprecautions that make life safer."
He spoke to the men in Russian and they withdrew.
Then he advanced to a divan beside a teakwood table on which stood alarge copper samovar. Dropping down, he motioned for them to takeseats beside him.
"You will have tea, my friends? Or perhaps you would prefer whiskeyand soda?"
They chose the latter, since their recent exertions seemed to havewarranted it, and their host tinkled a silver bell, bringing a Chineseboy beaming and salaaming.
A few words to him and the samovar was lit; then he hurried off onpadding feet, to return with miraculous speed, bearing not only thewhiskey and soda but a platter heaped with exotic cakes, cubedsandwiches of caviar and spiced fish, together with a profusion ofother delicacies--doubly welcome
to men who had toiled all day on amountain peak, with nothing but chocolate to sustain them.
And while they drank and ate, Prince Krassnov told his story--a storywhose very first words were an admission that he was the head of thegreat diamond-smuggling plot Stoddard had set out to trace down.
* * * * *
It was a story as dramatic and romantic as it was unscrupulous.
Finding himself and the crew of the rocket marooned on the upperslopes of this mighty mountain, in the midst of an incalculablewealth, he had set about at once to capitalize their astoundingdiscovery.
First he had made certain adjustments in the mechanism of hisapparatus--which fortunately had not been injured by its forcedlanding--and then he had taken off with specimens of the treasure,bringing the craft down this time with precision in the midst of hisancestral estates near Baku, in the foothills of the CaucasusMountains.
This vast property the Bolsheviks had not confiscated, partly becauseof its remoteness, no doubt, and partly because of the prince'sservices to the Soviet Republic. At any rate, it was here he haddeveloped in secret the details of his amazing plot--a plot that hadas its aim not only his own enrichment but the rehabilitation of allthe Russian nobles.
Once they had heard his story of the Diamond Thunderbolt and seen thespecimens he showed them, many had eagerly joined the plot, with theresult that an international ring had been formed for disposal of thegems.
His plans perfected, Prince Krassnov had then returned to Kinchinjungawith his rocket, since when the mysterious flood of those perfectdiamonds into the jewel markets of the world had begun.
"So you see, my friends," he smiled, "that is what you Americans wouldcall my 'little game'--a game your chance discovery has ratherjeopardized, you must admit."
Professor Prescott could well realize this, but at a glance fromStoddard he declined to admit it.
"A very ingenious game!" he said. "But where do the Lamas figure inthis? Surely they must know of the presence of this meteor withintheir kingdom."
"No doubt they do," the prince conceded. "This is why they are soreluctant to have foreigners enter their domain. At one time, I amsatisfied, they knew its exact location and drew many of their owngems from that source. But in recent times the snow people haveguarded their secret well. The Lamas are as terrified of them as thenatives--and with better reason!"
He did not mention what the reason was, but there was somethingominous in his tone.
* * * * *
"But to get on with my story, friends. I am not telling you all thismerely to satisfy your curiosity. I have what you call a motive in mymadness!"
Madness was right, thought Stoddard. The man was dangerously,criminally mad.
"My motive is simply this," he went on. "You have chanced upon mylittle nest-egg, and consequently I have either to let you in on thedeal or--"
Krassnov paused; shrugged.
"But why talk of anything unpleasant, when there is wealth enough herefor all? What I propose, briefly, is that you join me."
They knew it was coming, but they winced, nevertheless.
"Oh, don't be premature!" he exclaimed, a little nettled. "Hear meout. What is good enough for me and my fellow nobles of ImperialRussia is surely good enough for poor, under-paid professors ofdemocratic America. Listen, friends--I am generous. Join me and wewill make millionaires out of all of you. Every professor in yourcountry shall be a little czar. It will be, to use the old phrase, atriumph of the intellect."
Beyond a doubt, the man was mad; yet his madness was vast, dizzying.Though neither was tempted, they were both rendered speechless for amoment. It was like standing on a mountain top and being shown thecountries and the glories of the world--like standing on the top ofKinchinjunga, thought Prescott.
"But you assume we are all Bolsheviks, like yourself, we professors,"he said, struggling for calm words.
"Bolsheviks!" snorted the prince. "I spit on them! You think I, anobleman, am interested in the masses? Cattle--swine! I plan only forthe day when we who are worthy rule again, and this that I have toldyou is my plan. You can, as you Americans so coarsely say, either takeit or leave it."
* * * * *
A tension hung in the air, as his words echoed into silence. The manhad revealed himself.
"And suppose we leave it?" asked the professor, restraining hisirritation as best he could. "What then?"
"Then I am afraid--ah--unpleasant consequences would result," was thebland answer. "Surely you realize that I could not let you and youngDr. Stoddard rejoin your expedition with this story to report."
They realized it quite well.
"But suppose we agree not to report it?" said Professor Prescott.
"Not to doubt your honesty of intention," replied Krassnov sharply. "Iwould refuse to accept such an agreement."
"Then I see nothing else but to decline your kind proposal," saidStoddard, before the professor could formulate further words. "What doyou propose to do--murder us?"
"Nothing so personal," said the prince, with his sardonic smile. "Ishall merely turn you over to my little subjects. They no doubt willdeal with you as your merits warrant."
Whereupon he pressed a button under that elaborate teakwood table. Themusical gong they had heard before sounded again, and the prince's twoCossack retainers reappeared.
He addressed them briefly in Russian, adding to his guests:
"Adieu, friends! If you change your minds, you have only to speak. Youwill be understood, and I shall be gratified."
And without further words, they were led from that ornate apartment.
* * * * *
Taken back to the dazzling chamber under the meteor, they were turnedover to the pigmies.
A powwow resulted, but it was brief. The two captives were bound fastin a curious ceremonial pit near the center of the room. Then themidget horde withdrew, leaving them alone there under that eery glow.
"Now what the devil will be the next step?" queried Stoddard, when thelast of the pigmies had gone.
Professor Prescott considered for a moment, before replying.
"I don't think there will be any next step, except our cremation," hesaid at length.
"Cremation?" gasped his young friend. "What do you mean, cremation?"
Another pause, then:
"Just this. Don't you see where we are? Right under the Thunderbolt!Well?"
"Well what?"
"Simple enough, Jack." The professor's tone was grave. "When dawncomes, and the rising sun strikes that--"
"Good God!" Stoddard suddenly understood. "Why, we'll be cookedalive--frizzled!"
It was only too true. Even now, the pale rays of the moon,concentrated by the myriad facets of that monumental diamond, werebeginning to focus on them a warmth that was uncomfortable. And bymorning--!
The two men crouched there silent, realizing their desperate plight.They _must_ escape, before the sun rose. But how?
* * * * *
Studying their bonds, they discovered that they were of rawhide ofsome sort, obviously from the hides of animals these strange peoplecaught on the lower slopes somewhere. But though they strained andtwisted, they could not stretch them, the leather evidently havingbeen cured to a marvelous toughness in these high altitudes.
Precious minutes ticked by as they struggled there, but they wereunable to extricate themselves.
But before the end of a half-hour, Stoddard managed to free one arm,and reaching into his jacket he drew forth a small, compact metalobject--his cigarette lighter.
Twirling the wheel, while Professor Prescott held his breath, hesucceeded in kindling a flame on its tiny wick.
If only he could reach the thongs with it! If only he could burn themthrough and free himself and the professor before any of the pigmiesre-entered that lethal chamber!
Wrenching around now, he applied the flame to his
left wrist, whichwas still bound. As the living fire touched his flesh, he winced withpain, but almost anything was better than the grisly fate thatthreatened.
Slowly, a little at a time, he endured the torture, straining at eachapplication to see if the thongs would yield.
"Here, let me try it once!" called out Professor Prescott, as he criedaloud with the agony of the ordeal.
"No. I'll get it!" Stoddard gritted his teeth, continued. "There! Ithink my hand is free!" He struggled. "Yes. Now wait!"
Replacing his cigarette lighter in his pocket, he drew his blisteredwrist from its smouldering bonds and struggled feverishly now to undothe lashes about his feet.
Five minutes of that and suddenly he flung them off and stood up.
"Now! Now then, Professor. I'll have you loose in a jiffy!"
Bending over his fettered companion, he worked with frantic haste tountie the rawhide bonds.
Another five minutes and they were both free.
* * * * *
Professor Prescott stood up and stretched.
"Thank God for small favors!" he exclaimed. "But you, Jack? You mustbe burned cruelly.
"Forget it!" Stoddard was already wrapping a handkerchief around hiswrist. "Now let's see about getting out of here. These little rats allseem to be asleep, and Lord knows where that maniac Krassnov is.Perhaps we can make it. At any rate, we'll give them a run for theirmoney!"
As he spoke, he drew his automatic.
Silently, stealthily, they left that glittering chamber and proceededdown the cavern toward what seemed to be the entrance, guided by theirremembrance of the way they had come.
A hundred yards or more they made, seeing no sign of their captors,when suddenly a musical gong rang out.
"We've stepped on one of Krassnov's infernal signals!" cried Stoddard,above the din. "Now there'll be hell to pay!"
And "hell to pay" there was, almost instantly--for before they hadtaken ten more steps, the cavern ahead was full of small, ghostlyfigures, jabbering in their shrill voices.
Indifferent now of what he did, their lives at stake, Stoddard blazedaway with his automatic, sweeping it from side to side of the stonywalls as he fired.
As the shots crashed out, the jabbers turned to shrieks of terror.Several of the pigmies fell. The rest broke their ranks and shrankinto the shadows.
"Run!" yelled Stoddard, slipping a new clip into his pistol.
The professor needed no invitation. Gathering his long legs he spedafter the younger man, and together they burst from the mouth of thecavern.
* * * * *
Outside, in the dazzle of moonlight, they paused for an instant.
"This way!" called Stoddard, racing toward that splintered arena.
They gained it and lunged across it to the shelving slope that reachedupward to the narrow, perilous ridge whence they had come.
As they proceeded, the pigmy horde following with incredibleswiftness, Stoddard wheeled and fired time and again--and now hisshots were answered by the reports of rifles.
"Krassnov and his Cossacks!" he muttered. "Well, we'll give them ourheels, unless they hit us."
"And Russians are notoriously bad shots, I understand," panted theprofessor.
At any rate, they reached the slope and struggled upward toward theridge, putting themselves presently out of range behind the jaggedrocks that loomed on every side.
But just as they were congratulating themselves on their escape, camea dull, reverberating explosion--and as they clung to their insecurefootholds, a volcano of snow and ice rose ahead. Thousands of tons ofdebris avalanched into the chasm below.
* * * * *
Stunned, deafened, they looked around.
Down in that pocket where the Thunderbolt had so recently gleamed wasone vast chaos, and above, where that razor-back ridge had led acrossthe intervening chasms to safety, was a dazzling void.
To both came the same thought, but Stoddard expressed it first.
"Krassnov--he's dynamited the ridge!" he gasped.
"Then we--we'll never get back now!" echoed Professor Prescott.
"No, but they'll never get us here!"
"Scant comfort, though, when we're pinioned here like a couple ofbirds with their wings clipped."
"Right; but let's see. Let's figure. We're better off than we were.And what was it Napoleon once said: 'When you can't retreat, advance.'So suppose we--"
"But listen!"
* * * * *
Stoddard heard. It was the sound of rifle shots. And looking down, hesaw a feverish activity surrounding the rocket. Myriads of the pigmieswere swarming upon it, while a handful of Cossacks were holding themoff.
"Something doing down there, all right!" he muttered. "Looks to melike--why, sure I've got it! That madman has overshot himself, foronce! He's buried their precious meteor, in blowing up our ridge, andthey've turned on him!"
"I think you're right," agreed Professor Prescott. "Suppose we advanceas you say. It looks like a chance."
"Right," said Stoddard.
Slowly, cautiously, they returned down the slope.
When within a hundred yards, they knew they had sized up the situationcorrectly. With frantic speed, Krassnov was supervising the shovelingout of his rocket from amid the debris; was directing its loading,while the free members of his crew held off the enraged natives whowere obstructing them.
Descending even more cautiously now, they neared the scene ofactivity.
"My plan is this--to get aboard and find out where they're going!"said Stoddard, through shut teeth. "What do you say?"
"Lead on!" said the professor.
So they continued down, neared the resting-place of that strangecraft, and, under shelter of the moonlight shadows, stole through theconfused ranks surrounding it and crept aboard.
* * * * *
Stowing themselves into the first likely niche that offered--a narrowcubicle behind a flight of metal stairs--they waited, scarcely daringto breathe for fear of being discovered.
Fifteen minutes passed, a half-hour, when suddenly sounded a raspingof doors that told them the rocket was being sealed.
Then came a roar, as of some mighty blast beating down upon the frozenearth, followed by a lifting, rushing sensation--and they were flungviolently to the flooring.
The pressure ceased in a moment, however, to be supplanted by abuoyant, exhilarating sense of flight. It increased, and they judgedthey must be traveling at great speed.
Glancing at the luminous dial of his watch, Professor Prescott sawthat it was a quarter to ten.
"Well, we're off!" he whispered. "And where, would you guess, are weheaded?"
"I wouldn't guess," Stoddard whispered back. "From the way we'reriding, it might be Mars! We must be making hundreds of miles anhour."
"Or thousands! Who knows?"
They crouched there in their cramped niche, scarcely even whisperingnow, as the tense minutes passed.
* * * * *
Suddenly the motion changed. They seemed to be dropping.
Another moment or two, and with a slight jar the rocket came to rest.
"Well, we're here, wherever it is," said Stoddard, stirring.
"Yes, undoubtedly," the professor agreed. "And the next move?"
"I think we'll let them make that."
They were not long in doing so. There came the sound of doors raspingopen, of footsteps echoing on metal stairs and corridors. Once a giantCossack passed within four feet of them. But at length, all was silentwithin the rocket.
"Now, then, suppose we have a look around," said Stoddard, steppingout.
"Right," agreed his companion, following. "I'll admit I am mildlycurious to know what corner of the earth we've been transported to."
They proceeded down the dim-lit corridor the way they had come,descended a flight of stairs and headed along a
nother corridor--topause suddenly and gasp with astonishment. For through the door whencethey had entered the rocket poured a flood of sunshine.
* * * * *
Stoddard stared at it a moment incredulously, and then glanced at hiswatch.
"Ten o'clock, I make it!" he muttered. "Am I crazy, or what?"
"No, I hardly think so," smiled Professor Prescott, recovering fromhis own surprise. "It is merely that we are in some part of the worldquite a few thousand miles removed from India. Back on Kinchinjunga,it is still ten o'clock at night, but here, it is quite obviouslydaytime."
"That must be the explanation," Stoddard agreed. "But it certainlygave me a start at first!"
Approaching the door, followed by the professor, he peered cautiouslyout, to confront a desolate stretch of scrubby growth, hemmed in by abackground of rugged mountains.
"Now where the devil would you say we are?" he demanded, gazing aroundperplexedly.
"Either in the United States or in Mexico," was the astonishingreply.
"But how can you say that?"
"Because it must be some place approximately twelve hours distant fromIndia in time, to judge from the sun, which is not far past themeridian."
"But why not Australia, for instance?"
"Because Australia is too far. It would be three o'clock tomorrowmorning there, since it is ten o'clock last night now in India."
* * * * *
Stoddard pondered this a minute, then admitted its correctness.
"All right, then. Assuming that we are somewhere on the North Americancontinent, the next thing is to give Krassnov the slip; otherwise itwon't be big enough for all of us!"
And that Professor Prescott conceded readily enough.
But before making any further move, they looked over theirsurroundings carefully, to satisfy themselves none of their latecaptors were in view.
"They're evidently somewhere on the other side of the rocket,"Stoddard concluded at length. "So let's make a break for it whilewe've got the chance."
"Lead the way!" said the professor.
"O. K., here we go!"
And, stepping through the door, they dropped to the ground and racedoff under the glare of the burning sun toward the rugged mountainsthat loomed ahead.
* * * * *
For a hundred yards or so they were able to keep the rocket betweenthemselves and the Russians but soon the ground sloped up to such anextent that they realized they must be in full view.
Dropping behind the scant shelter of a scraggly tree, they turned andglanced down--and there, beyond the rocket, they could now see agroup of men standing around outside a small wooden shack, shoutingand gesticulating in their direction.
"Damn it, they've seen us!" muttered Stoddard.
"But why don't they come after us?" queried Professor Prescott.
The answer came even as he spoke, for out of the shack rushed the tallfigure of the prince, in his hand a pair of binoculars which he raisedto his eyes.
Whether or not be spotted them, an instant later he turned and uttereda command, and two huge Cossacks sprang to the pursuit.
"There's nothing to do now but run for it!" cried Stoddard, leaping tohis feet.
The professor followed and they plunged on up the slope, bullets fromtheir pursuers' pistols and the rifles of those below kicking up thedust around them. But either because the aim was bad or the targetsdifficult, they escaped unscathed.
As for Stoddard, he wasted no time in firing back.
"Once we get in those mountains, we're safe!" he gasped, as theystruggled on. "How are you, Professor--all right?"
"No holes in my skin so far!" came the panting answer.
Five desperate, dodging minutes passed.
Glancing over their shoulders, they saw that the heavy, stolidCossacks were losing ground. And ahead, tauntingly near now, loomed athickly-wooded slope that meant the beginning of big timber--andsafety.
Another five minutes--each second an hour--and they had gained it.
* * * * *
But there was no pausing yet, they could hear the Cossacks crashing onlike determined blood-hounds behind.
"No need to climb any more!" exclaimed Stoddard, half breathless."We'll edge along, keep in the trees, and try to throw them off."
The older man said nothing; merely gritted his teeth. This climb hadtold on him more than anything he had experienced on the cruel slopesof Kinchinjunga.
As they struggled along now, sometimes it seemed that they had throwntheir pursuers off the trail, or completely outdistanced them, butalways a moment later they would hear again the crunch of theCossacks' boots on the dry undergrowth.
So the grim flight continued, mile after heart-tearing mile, andStoddard was beginning to realize that the professor couldn't keep onmuch longer--had just about decided to stop and shoot it out withtheir pursuers--when suddenly there came a sound that brought new hopeto him.
"Did you hear that?" he gasped, pausing.
"It--sounded like--a car!" panted his companion.
"Right. And that means there must be a road through here somewhere!But where?"
"Listen." Professor Prescott pointed to the left. "The sound seems tobe coming from over there."
And sure enough, from the left came a wheezing grind of a car making aheavy grade.
"Near, too," decided Stoddard. "Come on--let's go! We've got to headit off. It's our only hope, except--"
With relief, he shoved his automatic back into its holster and led theway in the direction of the now rapidly nearing car.
* * * * *
A hundred yards they had made, up a slight rise, when there spreadbefore them a rutted mountain road, and on it, in full view, was alaboring Ford of ancient vintage.
Over the wheel hovered a lanky, leathery native, and beside him sat asmall, plump woman who looked as though she might be his wife.
They were almost to the top of the hill when Stoddard hailed them.
"Say!" he said. "Give us a ride, will you? We're lost."
"Keep on, Henry!" he heard the woman urge. "I don't like the looks of'em."
Americans! Well, thought Stoddard, they were in the United States,anyway. That was something. And he didn't exactly blame the good womanfor her suspicions. They must look pretty wild, at that, with theirtwo-day beards and tattered clothes.
"Sorry," spoke up Henry. "Missus says no. She knows best. 'Sides, itain't fur to Martin's Bluff. You kin make it in an hour."
"But say, wait a minute!" They were running along beside the wheezingcar now. "We've got to get there in a hurry. We'll pay you."
Henry pricked up his ears at this, but his wife shook her head.
"Keep on!" she urged. "They may be bandits!"
* * * * *
Whereupon Stoddard drew his automatic, for there was no more time toargue.
"Stop!" he commanded. "You'll take us, understand? I'll pay you well!"
"See, I was right!" screamed the woman. "Bandits! Bandits! Oh,Henry--save me!"
Wildly she clung to him, as Stoddard mounted the running-board, butbefore he could make another move, Professor Prescott gasped out:
"The Cossacks! Quick!"
And jumping down, he wheeled to face the two leering Russians, notforty feet down the road. Pistols levelled, they were advancingstolidly.
Stoddard half-raised his own weapon, then turned to see if the car waswithin range of the return fire it would bring. It was--but not forlong.
With a furious chattering of bands, as Henry gave it the gas, thedecrepit vehicle gained the top of the hill and disappeared from viewdown the far slope, and the last thing he saw of it was a dusty plateflapping under its tail-light.
It was a Texas license!
Then, turning back, he lifted his automatic; but it was too late. TheCossacks were on them.
In answer
to a guttural command, he dropped the weapon and raised hishands, as the professor had already done.
* * * * *
Two hours later, they were back at the rocket.
Led into the shack--which was furnished inside like an Orientalhunting-lodge--they were confronted at once by Prince Krassnov.
Though his aristocratic features were immobile, it was obvious that hewas in no amiable frame of mind.
"So, my friends!" he exclaimed. "I leave you in India, and meet youagain in America, all within a matter of hours. It is but an exampleof our modern progress, is it not?"
They made no reply.
"Ha! You are not sociable, after enjoying my hospitality, mytransportation? Then suppose we--as you Americans so quaintlysay--call a spade a spade! I gave you your chance. You declined it.And what is the result? My beautiful Diamond Thunderbolt, myimmeasurable treasure, is buried forever."
"Through no fault of ours!" put in Stoddard.
"But buried nevertheless, and my adopted kingdom in revolt. Yet do notthink I mourn too much, my friends. Though the game is what you callup, my plans shall go on. Here and elsewhere in the world, where wehave sub-headquarters, are billions of dollars' worth ofdiamonds--supplies for years ahead. We shall not suffer. Butyou--Professor Prescott and Doctor Stoddard--I have a very interestingfate in store for you. How would you care to make a little scientificexpedition to Mars, say?"
"Mars?" gasped the professor.
"Yes, or Venus, or even Jupiter, not to mention the moon! Or how aboutthe sun? That would be an interesting sphere for exploration."
"We don't know what you're talking about," said Stoddard growingnettled. "Why mince matters? Call a spade a spade, if you're going to!What do you propose to do with us, now that you have us in yourpower?"
The prince paused, drew forth a long Russian cigarette from anexquisite platinum case.
"I propose," he smiled, when he had lit it, "to turn over my rocket toyou, my fellow scientists, since I shall have no further use for itand it might be embarrassing to be found with it in my possession."
And the way he proposed to turn it over to them, as they had alreadysuspected, was to lock them in it and fire it off into space.
* * * * *
Within the hour, the man's diabolical plan had been put intooperation.
Led to the rocket, the luckless pair were locked within a small metalroom somewhere within its recesses. There sounded again the peculiarrasping that told them its doors were being sealed. And then came theroar of that mighty exhaust beating down.
There followed the lifting, rushing sensation they had experiencedbefore, and again they were flung violently to the flooring by theforce of the upward impulse.
When the pressure slacked, they staggered to their feet and gropedaround the dark, stuffy little room.
"Well, this is the end, I guess," sighed Professor Prescott. "I hadnever thought," with a grim attempt at humor, "that I would meet quitesuch a scientific fate as this!"
"Nor had I!" Stoddard agreed. "But I'm not quite ready to cash in mychecks yet. The game isn't over!" He was pacing around the room,knocking on the metal walls with something that gave back a stridentring. "Have you any idea what composition this stuff is?"
* * * * *
The professor rapped on one of the panels; felt of it.
"Aluminum, I would say."
"Nothing so lucky! If it were, I could cut it like cheese. Butduralumin, probably, a very light, strong alloy; and what I have hereis a hunting knife with a can-opener on one end! If I'm not mistaken,we'll be out of this sardine box before long."
Whereupon he applied himself to the thin metal wall of their cell,working determinedly, while Professor Prescott held his cigarettelighter for a torch.
"You see, duralumin yields to heat, like aluminum," he exclaimed, asfinally his knife thrust through. "Now then, let's get the can openerworking."
The progress was slow but sure. Within an hour, he had cut out ajagged section some two feet square, through which they squeezed intoan equally dark corridor.
"Now then!" Stoddard's mood was exultant. "There must be switchesaround here somewhere. There were lights, I remember, so let's findthem. Once we get a little light on the subject--"
"Here!" called the professor, who had groped down the corridor withthe cigarette lighter. "How's that?"
As he pressed a switch, a row of small bulbs glowed overhead.
"Fine!" was the answer. "Now let's see if we can find the engine-room,or whatever they call it."
* * * * *
Jubilant now, they continued on down the corridor, which ended in aflight of stairs.
"I fancy it must be below," said Professor Prescott. "From what I haveseen of experimental models, the propulsion impulse must originatefrom the base."
So they descended the stairs, entered another dark corridor, foundanother switch and pressed it, and thus they proceeded, lighting theinterior of the rocket as they went. And as they descended, the roarof the exhaust increased in volume, indicating that they were nearingits source.
Presently they entered a large, circular room with an illuminated dialat the far end. Drawing near, they saw a confusion of instruments thatfor a moment left them dazed.
While Stoddard studied them in bewilderment, Prescott circled the roomtill he found a switch. Pressing it, he produced a brilliant flood ofillumination.
"Now then, let me have a look at this," he said, returning to thedial. "Professor Goddard once explained to me the workings of one ofhis experimental models. The motive force must be some liquefiedmixture, possibly oxygen and hydrogen. Some of these instruments--mostof them, in fact--must be valves."
He touched one, turned it, and the rocket responded with a sickeningburst of speed.
"No, that won't do! We're going plenty fast enough now!"
He touched another, and they slacked off dizzyingly.
"Well, there are two controls, anyway. Now then, how do they steerthis thing? That is the next problem we must solve."
But though he touched this instrument and that, producing weirdeffects, their course continued in the direction set. And meanwhile,they were hurtling outward through space at a rate of speed he knewwould presently carry them beyond the gravitational pull of the earth.
Then, as he grasped and swung down a curious lever that worked in aquadrant, they felt a violent lunge to the left, and for a moment itseemed they would shoot to the ceiling.
"Good God!" gasped Stoddard. "What's happened?"
"Nothing--only that I've found how to steer this wild steed!" criedthe professor, exultantly.
* * * * *
It was really quite simple, he explained, as he eased up on the lever.In application, it was a development of the gyroscope principle, thata wheel revolving freely within a freely suspended frame tends to makethe frame revolve in the other direction.
"You see, the rocket is the freely suspended frame," he went on,"while this lever controls a gyroscopic wheel somewhere. To set itspinning to the right causes us to turn to the left, and vice versa."
"But you almost stood us on our heads, a moment ago! How did thathappen?"
"Simply because I threw the lever too far to the right. We are ininterstellar space, obviously, where every change of directioninvolves an adjustment of equilibrium."
And if Stoddard didn't exactly understand, being first a secretservice man and only secondarily a scientist, at least he showed hisignorance no further. If the professor could bring this astoundingmachine back to Earth, that was all he wanted.
Prescott said he could, he thought, providing they had fuel enoughleft. So for the next few minutes, while the younger man held hisbreath, the professor labored with the various instruments on thatcomplicated dial.
"Now then, I think we're headed back," he said at length, relaxing."But we've got to have visibility, otherwise w
e will land with avelocity of about twenty thousand miles an hour, which is what Ifigure we're making at the present time."
"Good Lord!" gasped Stoddard. "I'll say we've got to have visibility!Wait a minute! Let me look around!"
He searched the room for further instruments--to find nothing that inany way met the purpose.
But even as he returned dejected, the professor cried out:
"Here--I've got it! Take a look at this!"
Bending over a small table beside the dial, Stoddard saw mirrored, inits ground-glass surface a hazy circular panorama that at first had nosignificance. But as he continued to peer down upon the scene, certainfamiliar aspects loomed out. It was the Earth--and what he was lookingat was a view of the North and South American continents!
* * * * *
For some moments Stoddard stared at this amazing panorama in silence;saw it grow rapidly clearer, as the careening rocket plunged like agiant shell toward the earth.
"My God!" he whispered at length in awe. "Do you think you can evercheck our speed?"
"I think so," the professor replied, busy over his instruments. "Butwhere do we want to land? How do we know what state we were in?"
Whereupon Stoddard told him of that Texas license plate.
"But we don't want to land anywhere near that fiend Krassnov," headded, with a shudder. "I suggest, if it's possible, that you pick outsome aerodrome, preferably in the western part of the state--for if Iremember my geography, Texas isn't mountainous in the east."
"I will do the best I can," said Prescott, grimly.
There followed tense minutes as the panorama in that ground-glassnarrowed and grew more intense. Now they could see only North America,now only the United States and a portion of Mexico, and now onlyTexas.
"Back--_back!_" cried Stoddard, as the rugged land loomed up, spreadinto a panorama of towns and ranches. "We're descending too fast!We're bound to crash, unless--"
But already the professor had touched the ascending valve and swungthe steering lever.
Up they zoomed again. Once more a portion of Mexico was visible on theglass, and along the international border now they could see a windingthread of silver.
"The Rio Grande!" exclaimed the young geologist. "Just follow it uptoward its source till we come to El Paso. There'll be a landing-fieldthere."
"Yes, undoubtedly." The professor was working in abstraction over theunfamiliar controls. "Now if I can just hold us on our course...."
* * * * *
He succeeded, and presently a white city gleamed over the curving rimof the horizon to the northwest, the tall chimneys of its smeltersthrowing long shadows from the lowering sun beyond.
In a minute or two they were over it, at a height of perhaps twelvemiles--and now, as they began descending, its patchwork of buildingsand plazas unfolded like some great quilt below.
"There's the field!" cried Stoddard, pointing in the glass to a wideclear space on the outskirts. "Can you make it, do you think?"
"We'll know soon!" was the grim answer, as Prescott worked franticallynow with his valves and levers. "It's a matter of balancing off ourflow of gases, of holding up buoyancy to the very last. A little toomuch, or not enough, and--"
Breathlessly, as they descended, Stoddard peered into the glass. Now ascene of excitement was visible below. Figures could be seen gazingup, waving their arms, running about this way and that.
"They must think they're getting a visit from another planet," saidStoddard. "Or that the end of the world has come!"
"Maybe it has, for us!" agreed the professor, gravely. "I'm afraidwe're going to crash. I can't seem to--"
Whatever he was going to add was lost in a sudden, rending concussionthat flung them violently down, and plunged the room into darkness.
* * * * *
Staggering to his feet a moment later, bruised and shaken, Stoddardgasped out:
"Professor are you there? Are you all right?"
A groan answered him, and for a moment his heart sank, but then camethe reassuring call:
"Yes--all right, I guess. And you?"
"O.K. Let's get out of here, quick!"
An ominous hissing sound beat on their ears, as they groped their waytoward the door. Evidently escaping gases from the deranged mechanism,thought Stoddard. The floor rose at an angle, indicating that therocket was half over on its side.
They found the door, and struggled along the twisted corridor toward aflight of stairs that would lead below; found it, descended, andgroped along another dark corridor, seeking an exit; when suddenly,around a bend, daylight confronted them, and to their joy they sawthat one of the main doors had been burst open by the impact.
Approaching it, they peered out--to be greeted by an awed group ofofficials and mechanics from the field.
As they climbed through, dropped to the ground, the group retreated,taking no chances.
"Back!" called Professor Prescott, warning and reassuring them with aword. Then, turning to his companion: "Come on, Jack--run! This thingis likely to explode at any moment."
Following this advice, Stoddard raced from the rocket with the rest.
At a safe distance, he turned and peered back--to see it standingthere at a crazy angle, dust and fumes issuing from under it in ablast that was hollowing a deep crater to the far side.
Even as they looked, the strange craft quivered, tottered, and fellover on its side, and the next instant was enveloped in a blindingsheet of flame that brought with it a dull detonation and a blast ofdazing heat.
The party backed still farther away.
"A nasty mixture, oxygen and hydrogen," muttered the professor,feeling of his singed eyebrows. "We got out of there just in time,Jack."
"I'll say we did!" Stoddard agreed, with a shudder.
* * * * *
By now the higher officials of the field were on the scene, among thema number of Army men.
Curiosity ran high, not unmingled with indignation. Who were thesestrange visitors? Where had they come from? What did they mean byendangering the lives of everyone, with their damned contraption?
Inquiring for the commandant, they were taken to him--Major ClarkHendricks, U.S.A.--and Stoddard briefly outlined their astoundingstory, producing credentials, whereupon a squadron of fast militaryplanes was assembled.
From the way they described the mountainous region where the rockethad first landed, mentioning the town Martin's Bluff, that Henry ofthe ancient Ford had named, the major declared that it must have beenthe Guadalupe Mountains a hundred miles to the east--and sure enough,a government map showed such a town there.
So it was that presently the squadron lifted into the late afternoonskies, with Major Hendricks in the leading plane, accompanied by thetwo weary adventurers.
Swiftly the squadron winged eastward. They reached the mountains inless than an hour, and circled them in search of that little woodenshack which Prince Krassnov and his Cossacks had made theirrendezvous....
* * * * *
It was like finding a needle in a haystack, and for a time Stoddarddespaired of success. But those rugged mountains were an open book tothe planes circling high overhead, and with Martin's Bluff oncelocated, the rest was not so hard.
At last, as twilight was falling, they found the shack and broughttheir planes to rest near it.
But as the party approached the shack, after posting a heavy guardover their planes, they saw that it was deserted.
This, after all, was only what Stoddard had feared, but neverthelessthey forced their way inside--and there, had Major Hendricks had anydoubt of their story, it was dispelled.
As Stoddard had told them, it was furnished like an Orientalhunting-lodge, with evidences of the recent occupation of the Russianson all sides.
But where were they? Had they got away or were they hiding somewhere?
Proceeding from room to roo
m until they had searched it thoroughly,the party paused baffled.
But not for long, for suddenly Stoddard discovered something that gavehim a clue. It was a barred door, within a closet, covered over withclothes and uniforms so as to be fairly well concealed. On batteringit in, they found that it led into a passage below.
* * * * *
As the party entered the passage, leaving further guards above, itbecame obvious that what they had found was the shaft of an old mine.
It led down abruptly, for a while, then more gradually, with manywindings and twistings, and ending presently in another barred door.
This they in turn battered in--to be greeted suddenly by a volley ofrifle-fire that dropped three of them in their tracks.
Stoddard was one of those who fell.
Bending over him, Professor Prescott lifted up his head.
"Jack!" he called. "Where are you hit? Answer me!"
"I--it seems to be in the shoulder," came the weak reply. "If you'vegot a handkerchief--"
The professor produced one and staunched the flow of blood as best hecould, working with the aid of his flashlight.
Meanwhile, ahead, the crash of pistols and rifles continued to splitthe stillness of the passage, as the attacking party pressed forward.
"There--that does it!" gasped Stoddard, at length. "Help me up. I'llbe all right."
Prescott steadied him to his feet. They continued on.
* * * * *
Now the firing ceased, and in a moment Major Hendricks appeared, atthe head of his party.
"Well, we've got them," he said, saluting Stoddard. "How are you, oldman?"
"All right," was the gritted reply. "Let's have a look at them."
A flashlight was swept across the stolid group of Cossack prisoners,but as Stoddard peered into one face after another, he realized thatKrassnov was not among them.
"You haven't got the leader," he said. "See here, you birds," headdressed the Cossacks, "where is he, eh?"
If they understood, they gave no indication of it, but shook theirheads sullenly.
"Well, damn it, we'll find him!" Stoddard wheeled and strode pastthem. "Give me three or four men, Major. I'll smoke out that Russianbear. He must be here somewhere."
Hendricks sent the main body above, with their prisoners, and gavehim the men he wanted, putting himself at their head.
"You'd better go on up, too, Professor," said Stoddard, addressingPrescott. "You've risked enough, in my behalf."
But the older man shook his head.
"No, I'll come along, if you don't mind," he insisted. "I want to seethe end of this thing."
* * * * *
It was an end that came with dramatic suddenness.
Pausing before a barred door some fifty paces down the passage, theywere debating what their next move would be--when suddenly it wasflung open.
"Come in, gentlemen," came a suave, ironical voice. "Sorry my servantswere so uncivil."
In the glare of light from beyond, Stoddard and the professor saw thatit was Prince Krassnov.
He stood there unarmed, smiling.
"Is this the fellow?" rasped Major Hendricks, his automatic levelled.
"It is," said Stoddard.
Slowly, cautiously, they followed the man into the room, which inreality was merely the end of the passage sealed off, though its wallswere richly panelled and it was luxuriously furnished.
Pausing beside a small, heavy table, he swept his hand over it,indicating a heap of rough diamonds that must have representedmillions.
"Merely a fraction of my treasure, gentlemen," he told them, with adeprecating shrug. "I hadn't quite finished storing away the lastshipment, when you interrupted me."
He strode to one of the walls, drew out a small drawer from a built-incabinet and dumped its glittering contents on the table with the rest.
All around the room, Stoddard noted as he stood there swaying, wereother cabinets dotted with the knobs of similar drawers.
"And this, gentlemen, is but my American sub-headquarters," thePrince went on. "In Siberia, in Brazil--but why bore you with themultiplication of my now useless wealth? Tell me, instead, my goodfriends--Professor Prescott, Doctor Stoddard--how come you back here,after I saw you safely on your way earlier in the afternoon?"
"Because I happen to have a knack with can-openers, and my colleagueis rather adept with machinery," Stoddard told him, "while MajorHendricks here is quite a hand with geography, not to mentionaviation."
* * * * *
A question or two, which they answered briefly, and Krassnov had thestory.
"Ah, my poor rocket!" he sighed. "But it is fate, I suppose; Kismet,as the Turkish say. Still, I deserved a better fate than to becaptured by a pair of American professors, when the secret service ofthe world was on my trail."
"Then cheer up!" said Stoddard, gritting his teeth to keep back thepain of his throbbing shoulder. "For I have the honor to representWashington in this case."
At that, the prince scowled darkly for a moment. Then he brightened.
"Kismet again! I might have acted differently, had I known that,but--well, I drink to your success, Doctor Stoddard!"
Whereupon, before they could restrain him, he lifted a vial from ashelf over one of the cabinets and downed its contents.
"A diamond-dust cocktail!" he smiled, replacing the vial. "The mostexpensive, even in your country of costly drinks--and the mostdeadly!"
But Stoddard knew, as the doomed nobleman stood there facing them instoic triumph, that diamond dust in the human system was as slow as itwas deadly, and that the desperate gesture had been futile, so far asjustice was concerned.
There would be ample time, in the weeks Prince Krassnov of ImperialRussia still lived, to round up his international allies and stamp outthe remnants of their amazing ring of diamond smugglers.
While as for Professor Prescott, he was thinking with what amazementthe members of his expedition back on Kinchinjunga would receive thecablegram he would dispatch that night, informing them that Stoddardand himself were safe in El Paso, Texas.