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* * * * *
VOL. V, No. 3 CONTENTS MARCH, 1931
COVER DESIGN H. W. WESSO
_Painted in Water-Colors from a Scene in "Beyond the Vanishing Point."_
WHEN THE MOUNTAIN CAME TO MIRAMAR CHARLES W. DIFFIN 297
_It is Magic against Magic As Garry Connell Bluffs for His Life with a Prehistoric Savage in the Heart of Sentinel Mountain._
BEYOND THE VANISHING POINT RAY CUMMINGS 314
_The Tale of a Golden Atom--an Astounding Adventure in Size._ (A Complete Novelette.)
TERRORS UNSEEN HARL VINCENT 360
_One after Another the Invisible Robots Escape Shelton's Control--and Their Trail Leads Straight to the Gangster Chief Cadorna._
PHALANXES OF ATLANS F. V. W. MASON 376
_Never Did an Aviator Ride a More Amazing Sky-Steed Than Alden on His Desperate Dash to the Great Jarmuthian Ziggurat._ (Conclusion of a Two-Part Novel.)
THE METEOR GIRL JACK WILLIAMSON 404
_Through the Complicated Space-Time of the Fourth Dimension Goes Charlie King in an Attempt to Rescue the Meteor Girl._
THE READERS' CORNER ALL OF US 417
_A Meeting Place for Readers of Astounding Stories._
Single Copies, 20 Cents (In Canada, 25 Cents) Yearly Subscription,$2.00
Issued monthly by Readers' Guild, Inc., 80 Lafayette Street, New York,N. Y. W. M. Clayton, President; Francis P. Pace, Secretary. Entered assecond-class matter December 7, 1929, at the Post Office at New York,N. Y., under Act of March 3, 1879. Title registered as a Trade Mark inthe U. S. Patent Office. Member Newsstand Group--Men's List. Foradvertising rates address E. R. Crowe & Co., Inc., 25 Vanderbilt Ave.,New York; or 225 North Michigan Ave., Chicago.
* * * * *
When the Mountain Came To Miramar
_By Charles W. Diffin_
"_That'll be all from you," he told the black one._]
[Sidenote: It is magic against magic as Garry Connell bluffs for hislife with a prehistoric savage in the heart of Sentinel Mountain.]
The first tremor that set the timbers of the house to creaking broughtGarry Connell out of his bunk and into the middle of the floor. Thenthe floor heaved and 'dobe walls swayed while the man fought to keephis footing and pull himself through the doorway to the safety of thedark night. The earthquake that came with the spring of 1932 was on.
He was nauseated with that deathly sickness that only an earthquakegives, and he dropped breathlessly in the shelter of a date palm whilethe earth beneath him rolled and groaned in agony. A deeper roar wasrising above all other sounds, and Connell looked up at the nearby topof Sentinel Mountain.
The stars of the desert land showed clear; the grim blackness ofSentinel's lone peak rose abruptly from the sand of the desert floorin darker silhouette against the velvet of a midnight sky. And themountain was roaring.
Softened by the distance, the deep, grumbling bass sang thunderinglythrough and above the other noises of the night, as if old Sentinelitself were voicing its remonstrance against this disturbance of itsage-long rest.
The grumbling died to a clatter of falling boulders a hundred yardsaway at the mountain's base, and Connell's eyes discerned a puff ofvaporous gray, a cloud of wind-blown dust, high up on the mountain'sflank.
"Holy cats!" said Garry explosively, "what a slide! That must haveripped the old boy wide open."
His eyes followed the white scar far up on the mountainside, followedit down to the last loosened stones that had crashed among the datepalms of Miramar ranch. "I don't just like the idea of the wholemountain moving in on me," he told himself; "I'll have to go up andlook at that to-morrow."
* * * * *
It was afternoon of the following day when Garry rolled blankets andfood into a snug pack and prepared for the ascent. "Guess likely I'llsleep out to-night," he mused and looked at the pistol he held in hishand.
"I don't want that thing slapping against me," he argued; "too darnedhot! And there's nothing to use a gun on up on Sentinel.... Oh, well!"He threw the holster upon his bunk and dropped the automatic into thepack he was rolling. "I'll take it along. Might meet up with arattler."
He brushed the sandy hair from his wet forehead and straightened tohis full six feet of slender height before he slipped the straps ofhis pack about his shoulders. And a broad grin made pleasant linesabout his gray eyes as he realized the boyish curiosity that wasdriving him to a stiff climb in the heat of the day.
There was no real trail up the thousand-foot slope of SentinelMountain. Prospectors had been over it, doubtless, in earlier days,but in all of Garry's twenty-one years no one besides himself had evermade the ascent.
There was nothing in all that solitary, desolate peak to call them;nothing, for that matter, to beckon Garry, except the hot desert days,the cool breath of evening and the glory of nights when the stars hunglow over all the miles of sand and sagebrush that reached far out tothe rippling sand-dunes shimmering in the distance. Nothing, that is,but the "feel" of the desert--and young Garry Connell was desert-bornand bred.
He stopped once and dropped his pack while he mopped his wet face.From this point he could see his own ranch spread below him. Miramar,he had named it--"Beautiful Sea." The name was half an affectionatemockery of this land where the nearest water was fifty miles away, andhalf because of the sea of blue that he looked at now. Garry had neverceased to wonder at the mirage.
It was always the same in the summer heat--a phantom ocean of water.Garry's eyes loved to follow the quivering blue expanse that seemed socool and deep. It rippled softly away to end in a line of white, likedistant breakers on the horizon's rolling dunes.
This had been the bed of an ocean in some distant past, and thatancient ocean could never have seemed more real than this; yet Garryknew that this sea would vanish with the setting sun. He had watchedit often.
* * * * *
A hundred yards farther and he stopped again. It was no well-troddenpath that Garry followed, but he knew his landmarks. There was the bigsplit rock a half mile ahead, and the three-branched cactus beside it.But between
these and the place where Garry stood was a fan-shapedsweep of boulders--and this where smooth going had been before.
He forgot for the moment all discomfort. He stood staring under thehot sun that cast purple shadows beside the weathered rocks, and hiseyes followed up the scarred mountainside.
"That whole ledge that stood out up there--that's gone!" he toldhimself. "The whole side of the mountain just shook itself loose...."
Far above, his eyes found another towering mass that reared itselfmenacingly. "That will come down next time," he said with conviction,"and I don't want to be under it when it breaks loose." Then hissearching eyes found the lower ledge and its shattered remains.
It had held a welter of rocks above it as a dam holds the pressure ofwater--and the dam had burst. The torrent of stone from above hadswept into motion and carried with it the accumulation of loose rubblebelow. Where the ledge had been was now a cliff--a sheer wall of rock.It had been covered before by the talus that was swept away.
Garry's eyes narrowed to see more plainly under the sun's glare. Hewas staring not alone at the cliff but at a shadow within it--a blackshadow in the white face of the cliff itself.
"That was all covered up before," Garry stated; "buried for thousandsof years, I suppose. But it can't be a cave; not a natural one, atleast. There are no caves in this rock."
He stopped at times for breath, and his wonder grew as he climbed andthe black mark took clearer form. At last he stood panting before it,to stare deep into the utter blackness of a passageway beyond anentrance of carved stone.
It was carved; there was no mistaking it! Here was a passage thatnature had never formed. He took a quick stride forward to see thetool marks that showed on hard walls where symbols and figures ofstrange design were carved. An intrusion of harder rock had formed aroof, and they had cut in below--
"They!" He spoke the word aloud. Who were "they?"
* * * * *
He remembered the scientist who had stopped at the ranch some timebefore, and he recalled enough of the talk of Aztec and Toltec andMayas to know that none of these old civilizations could explain thethings he saw.
"This goes way back beyond them--it must," he reasoned. And there werepictures, long forgotten, that came to his mind to show him a visionfrom the past--figures whose coppery faces shone dark above theirbrilliant, colored robes--slaves, toiling and sweating to drive thistunnel into solid rock. He was suddenly a-quiver with a feeling of thepresence of living things. His breath seemed stifled within him as hestepped into the dark where a pencil of light from his pocket-flashmade the blackness more intense.
He tried to shake off the feeling, but an indefinable oppression washeavy upon him; the weight of the uncounted centuries these walls hadseen filled him with strange forebodings.
His feet stumbled and scuffed over chips of stone; he steadied himselfagainst the wall at times as he followed the corridor that went downand still down before him. It turned and twisted, then leveled off atlast, and Garry Connell drew himself up sharply with a quick-drawnbreath.
His flash was making a circle of light a dozen steps ahead, and showeda litter of sharp stone fragments. And, scattered over them, a tangleof bones shone white; one skull stood upright to stare mockingly fromhollow sockets. The sudden white of them was startling in the blackpit.
"Bones!" he said, and forced himself to disregard the echoes thattried to shout him down; "just bones! And the old-timers that worethem haven't been using them for thousands of years." He moved forwardwith determined steps to the end of the passage that finished in solidstone. He stopped abruptly. At closer range was something that frozehim to a tense, waiting crouch.
This wall of solid stone--it was not solid as it had seemed. There wasa doorway; the stone was swung inward; and at one side in astraight-marked crack, he saw a thread of light.
He snapped off his own flash. Someone was there! Someone had beatenhim to it! He held himself crouched and rigid at the thought. But whocould it be? The utter silence and the steady, unchanging, pale-greenlight showed him the folly of the thought. There was no one there;there couldn't be anyone.
* * * * *
His hand, that trembled with excitement, reached across and over theskeleton remains posted like a ghostly guard before the door. He threwhis weight upon the stone.
Its bearings groaned, but it moved at his touch. The stone swungslowly and ponderously into a silent room, and Garry Connell staredwide-eyed and wondering where rock walls, in carved and coloredbrilliance reflected the softest of diffused light.
A great room, hewn from the solid rock!--and Garry tried to see it andall that it held at one glance. He grasped the extent of the stonevault, a hundred feet across; the distant walls were plain in the softlight.
One high point of flashing color caught his eye and held it inmarveling amazement. A thing of beauty and grace. It was a shining,silvery shape like a mushroom growth; it towered high in air, almostto the ceiling, a slender rod that swelled and opened to a curved andgleaming head. Graceful as a fairy parasol, huge enough to shelter agiant, it was like nothing he had ever seen.
But there was no time now for conjectures. He made no effort tounderstand; he wanted only to see what might be here; and his eyesflashed quickly over sculptured walls and a stone floor where metalboxes were arranged in orderly rows.
Hundreds of them, he estimated; huge cases, some eight or ten feetlong. Two nearby were raised above the floor on bases of carved stone.Lusterless gray in color--metal, unmistakably--and in them....
"No use getting all hopped up over treasure hunting," Garry had toldhimself. But under all his incredulous amazement had been flickeringthoughts of what he might find.
He stared hungrily at those two boxes near him. Each of the hundredswas big enough to hold a fortune. He reached for a metal bar besidethe scattered bones, and, like a man in a sleep-walking dream, hestepped across those relics of earlier men and entered the room thatthey had guarded.
The light stopped him for a moment. He puzzled over it; staredwonderingly at a circle of glowing radiance in the roof of stone. Itreminded him of something ... the watch on his wrist ... yes, that wasthe answer--some radio-active substance. His eyes came back to thenearest chest, and he jammed the point of his corroded bar beneath theflange of a tight-fitting lid.
* * * * *
The hidden room was cool, but Garry Connell wiped the sweat from hiseyes when he ceased his frantic efforts. The metal bar clanged loudlyupon the floor beside him. He stood, breathing heavily, his eyes onthe metal cover that refused to move. And in the silence there came tohim again that strange, prickling apprehension. He caught himselflooking quickly behind him as if to find another person there.
His eyes were accustomed now to the pale light, and the sculpturedfigures on the walls stood out with startling distinctness. Garryturned to look at the nearer wall and the figure that was repeatedover and over again.
It was a man, tall and lean, his robes, undimmed by the years, blazedin crimson and gold. But the face above! Garry shivered in spite ofhimself at the devilish ugliness the artist had copied. It was deadblack in color, with slitted eyes that had been touched up artfullyto bring out their venomous stare. The head itself rose up to arounded point that added to the inhuman brutality of the face.
He was seated on a throne, Garry saw, and other figures, lessskilfully carved, were kneeling before him. Again, he was standingabove a prostrate enemy, a triple-pointed spear raised to deliver thefinal blow.
Silently, Garry let his eyes follow around the room with itsrepetition of the horrible being who was evidently a king. Then hewhistled softly. "Nice kind of hombre, he must have been," he said.And, "Boy," he told the carved image familiarly, "whoever you were,you've been dead a long time, and I don't mind telling you I'm glad ofit."
He was slowly circling the first casket. Beyond it was the slender rodwith its mushroom head that seemed more like a bell as
he looked frombelow. The head's inner surface was emblazoned, like the figures onthe wall, with crimson and gold in strange designs. He saw now thatthe base of it was connected with a smaller box, placed like the twobeside it on a stone pedestal.
He came slowly beside it to study the box with narrowed eyes. Heexpected the metal cover would be as immovable as the others, and hestarted back and caught his breath sharply as the metal raised at histouch and the green radiance from above flashed back from within thebox in a thousand scintillant lights. Then he stooped to see thebrilliant, silvery sheen of metal wheels that moved on jeweledbearings.
* * * * *
A mechanism of some sort--but what? he wondered. He had some knowledgeof the stream of electrons that discharged continuously from the lightabove, and he knew how they could charge an electroscope that wouldautomatically discharge to produce motion. He nodded inhalf-understanding as the fluttering gold-leaf fell and allowed atiny wheel to move one notch in its escapement.
"Clockworks!" he told himself--it was as near as he could come to aname for the machine--"and it's been running here all this time....What for, I wonder? What was it supposed to do?"
He stared again at the bell-shape towering above him, but its purposewas beyond guessing: it was a part of the machine. His eyes came backto the mechanism itself. There was a splinter of stone.... Garryreached for it unthinkingly, but his hand was checked in mid-air.
The fragment was wedged beneath a tiny lever, holding it erect."That's the answer," Garry whispered. "The machine was left open,"--hefelt of the cover that had been dented by some heavy blow, and sawsharp splinters of rock beneath his feet--"a rock fell from the roof,flaked off and dropped onto the machine, and a splinter jammed thislittle lever. But the machine has been ticking along...."
His fingers reached for the stone.
"Let's go!" he said, and grinned broadly at the thoughts that were inhis mind. "Let's see what the machine would have done!"
The fragment came away within his hand, and he saw the lever fallslowly. There was motion within the case--wheels and shining spheresthat touched one upon another were spinning in gleaming circles ofsilvery green--and from above he heard the first faint whisper of asound.
It came from the bell, and Garry drew back to stare upward. The firstsoft humming of the clear bell-note was incredibly sweet. It rose inpitch while the volume increased, till the musical note was lost inthe rising roar that resounded from walls and roof. Higher it rose; itwas a scream that was human in its agony, prodigious in its volume!
* * * * *
Garry Connell stood trembling with unnamed fear. This sound wasunbearable; it beat upon his ears; it battered his whole body; itsearched out every quivering nerve and tore at it with fingers offire. Still higher!--and the scream was piercing and torturing hisbrain. He felt the jerk of uncontrollable muscles.
The whirling machine was a blur of light, and he longed with everyfibre of his tortured mind to throw himself upon it--intoit!--anything to end the unbearable impact from on high. His body,assailed by a clamor that was physical torment, could not move; thevibrations beat him down with crushing force, while the shriekingvoice rose higher, then grew faint, and, with a final whisper, died tonothingness.
And still Garry felt himself sinking; the room was blurred; theexcruciating agony of tortured nerves melted into a lethargy thatswept through him. Dimly he sensed that the monstrous, quivering,bell-topped thing was still launching its devastating rain ofvibrations; they were above the range of hearing; but he felt his bodyquivering in response to the unheard note. Then even these vaguefragments of understanding left him. The towering, soundless thing wasindistinct ... it vanished in the darkness that closed about....
He was upon the floor in a crouching heap when the tremors that shookhim ceased. His mind, in the same instant, was cleared, and he knewthat the soundless vibrations from the bell had ended. A wave ofthankfulness flooded through him, and he luxuriated in the uttersilence of the room--until that silence was broken by another sound.
It was hard and metallic, like the click of a withdrawn bolt, and camefirst from the case at his side. A second sharp rap replied from theother raised casket, then an echoing tattoo of metallic impactsrattled and clattered in the resounding room. Each of the hundreds ofcaskets was adding its voice to the clacking chorus.
* * * * *
The paralysis that had held Garry's muscles was gone, and he cameslowly to his feet to see the edge of the cover he had tried vainlyto move, rising smoothly in the air. His eyes darted about; the secondcasket was opening; beyond were countless others; the room was alivewith silent motion where metal lids lifted like petals of flowersunfolding to the sun.
The machine had done it! The conviction came to him abruptly. Thosevibrations that had beaten him down had done this: some unlockingmechanism within each case had been actuated when the vibrationsreached the proper pitch. Then the thoughts were driven from his mindby a more thrilling conviction: The caskets were open! The treasure!Who could know what some of them might contain? He took one quick steptoward the nearer of the two.
One step!--and his reaching hands stopped motionless above the opencase. The contents of the box were plain before him--and he stared inhorror at the black, half-naked figure of a man as silent and unmovingas its counterpart upon the wall.
Black as a carving in ebony, it was the face that held Garry's eyes.He saw the pointed head, the thin lips half-drawn from snarling teeth,the expression of brutal savagery that even this frozen stillnesscould not conceal.
The eyes were closed; Garry saw their slitted lids. He was looking atthem when they quivered and twitched. The lids opened slowly, drewback from staring eyes that were cold and dead--eyes that camesuddenly to life, that turned and stared unwinkingly, horribly, intohis.
* * * * *
Garry's lips were moving as he drew back in slow retreat, but he heardno sound of his own voice, only a husky whisper that said over andover again: "Mummies! Caskets of mummies! And they're coming back tolife!"
Suspended animation. He had heard of such things. Dim, fleetingremembrance of what he had read came flashingly to him--toads that hadlived a thousand years sealed up in rock--but this, a human thing, aman!--no, no!--it couldn't come to life; not after all this time!
The pointed head, the ugly, menacing face and the body of dead blackthat rose slowly within the casket gave his argument the lie. Indreadful, living reality he saw the thing before him as it stretchedits corded neck, extended and flexed its long, black arms and breatheddeeply through lips drawn thin. Then, with a bound of returningenergy, it leaped out and down to stand half-naked and black, toweringthreateningly above his head.
And Garry, too stunned to feel a sense of fear, looked first at theliving face before him and then at the carvings done in stone. Therewas too much here for instant comprehension; his reason could notfollow fast enough where facts were leading, and his mind seemedgroping for some certain, proven thing.
"It's the same one that's on the wall," he explained painstakingly tohimself. "It's the king, the old boy himself! I said he would be a badhombre; I said he was a bad one--"
He saw the other raise his hands threateningly, and he crouched tomeet the attack. But the black hands dropped, and the scowling faceturned, while Garry's eyes followed toward a sound of movement in thesecond casket.
The green light flooded down, and Garry Connell glanced quickly at thedoorway. Too many of these blacks and this would be no safe place forhim. He was expecting another apparition like the first; he would havethought himself prepared against any further surprise, but his grayeyes opened wide at what the light disclosed.
* * * * *
There was the casket, gray and lusterless on its low, stone base. Itscover, like the others, stood erect, and above the nearer edge an armwas raising. But it was a white arm, and it ended in a slim
, whitehand!--its rounded softness held in clear outline against the background of gray, until the arm fell that the hand might grip the metaledge.
Garry's eyes held in wondering fascination upon those slender whitefingers. The hand of a woman--a girl!--what marvel of miracles wasthis? He held his silent pose while he stared at the face thatappeared before him.
It was milk-white against the dull gray metal beyond, the white ofdeath itself, until returning circulation brought a flush of pink thatcrept slowly to the rounded cheeks. Dark hair cascaded about theshoulders to mingle with a lacy veil of golden threads. A film ofgolden lace wrapped about her--her robes had gone to dust, vanishedwith the vanished years--and only the threads of gold with which therobe was shot remained, a futile concealment for the slim white of hershoulders, the soft curves of rounded breasts. But Garry's eyes wereheld by the eyes that looked and locked with his.
Dark eyes, deep and steady, yet glowing softly with the wonder of thisawakening. Windows, crystal clear, through which shone softly a lightthat filled him through and through!
Alluring as was the rounded whiteness of the form so thinly veiled, itwas not this nor the childlike beauty of the face that held himspellbound. Garry Connell's only love had been the desert, and now hewas filled and shaken by the glamour from within these thrilling eyes.
A rasping word made echoes in the silence, and Garry saw the girl'seyes widen as she turned them upon the black one, who had spoken. Hesaw her face lose its color and go dead white, and plainly her wideeyes showed the fears that swept in upon her with returningremembrance.
* * * * *
Garry followed her gaze to the wild figure whose slitted eyesglittered in savage triumph and possessiveness at the white beauty ofthe trembling girl. The lean figure spoke again in that rasping,unintelligible voice--he addressed the girl now--and the tone sent astrange prickling of animosity through every fibre of the watchingman.
The black one took one stride forward; the girl, in a flash of whiteand gold, sprang from her resting place to take shelter behind thehigh casket. Her eyes came back to Garry's, and the call for helpthough voiceless was none the less real.
Then her pale lips moved, and she called to him with a clear voicethat uttered unknown words.
Garry came from the spell that bound him, and with a quick rush madebetween her and the advancing man. He landed tense and crouching, andhis voice was hoarse with excitement when he spoke.
"That'll be all from you," he told the black one.
His words could mean nothing to this savage, but the tone that rangthrough them, and his crouching, ready pose, must have been plain. Theinky face beneath the high-pointed dome of head was twisted with rage;the eyes glared at this being who dared to oppose him. But the blackone paused, then stepped backward to the casket where he had been.
Garry retreated a few slow steps to the end of the metal box thatsheltered the girl. "Can't you understand me?" he asked. "Am Idreaming? What has happened? Who are you, and who is this black beast?What does it all mean?"
Again he was sure that mere speech useless, but he felt that he had tospeak, to say something, anything, to prove the reality of his ownwaking self and of the wild, nightmare experience.
He saw the crouching girl rise to her full height; he saw the movementof her hand as she swept the dark hair away from her face, and thefilm of gold lace clung closely about her as she came to his side.One hand was outstretched to rest, light and cool, upon his forehead.
* * * * *
He heard her voice, so soft and liquid yet so charged with terror. Shespoke meaningless words and phrases, but at the touch of her hand uponhis face he started abruptly.
Did the words themselves take on meaning and coherence, or was itsomething within himself?--Garry could not have told. But, with thestartling clarity of a radio switched full on, he got the impress ofher thoughts, and his own brain took them and put them into words thathe knew.
"You will help me, you will save me," the words were saying. "You areone of us, I know. You are a stranger, but your skin is white; you arenot of the tribe of Horab."
Garry was motionless and listening. He knew he was sensing herthoughts--she was communicating with him by some telepathic magic--andhe knew, as he caught the words, that Horab was the black one therebefore him, reaching and feeling within the casket where he had slept.Horab--a savage king of a savage land--
"He captured me," the words continued in breathless haste. "I am fromZahn: do you know the good land of Zahn? I am Luhra. Horab capturedme; carried me here to this island; it was yesterday he brought mehere. He put me to sleep, and he put his men to sleep, hundreds of hischosen warriors. He worked his magic, and he said we would sleep forone hundred summers. But it was yesterday. And now you will save me;my father is a great man; he will reward you--"
The sentences flashed almost incoherently into his mind, but ceased ata sound and stirring from the room at their backs.
Garry needed a moment for the substance of the message to register. Hehad heard it as truly as if she had spoken: Horab had capturedher--yesterday!... And his own lips that had been loose withastonishment closed to a grim smile.
"Yesterday!" She thought it was yesterday that her long night hadbegun. Did Horab know the truth? Garry was suddenly certain that hedid. Horab's plans had miscarried; he could not know how far in adistant past was that day when he had placed himself and this girl intheir caskets, safe in their mountain tomb.
* * * * *
Only an instant for these thoughts to form--then his eyes were steadyupon the tall savage who had found what he sought in the big metalcase. Horab, king of a vanished race, turned now with a heavy scepterin his hand; and its jeweled head flashed brilliantly as he raised ithigh in air and shouted an echoing command into the room. A white handwas tugging at Garry's shoulder, a soft body clinging close, to turnhim where new danger threatened.
The other caskets! He had forgotten them, and he saw the nearer onesalive with struggling forms. A black man-shape, with sullen, animalface and pointed head, came slowly erect and staggered upon the floor.Another--and another! There were scores of the black, naked men whoscrambled from the nearer caskets and swayed drunkenly upon theirfeet.
Garry stood tense, his mind a chaos of half-formed plans. This onebrute he might handle, but the whole tribe--that was too large anorder. Yet he knew with an unshakable conviction that he would carrythis girl from their evil clutches or die in the trying.
Feminine charms had failed to interest Garry in that world outside,but now the message of these soft eyes, the appealing beauty of thislovely face, proud and unafraid despite her fears, the hand so softand trusting upon his face!--there had something entered into GarryConnell's lonely life that struck deep within him and found a readyresponse.
He swept one arm about the soft, yielding body beneath its wisp ofgarment, and he swung her behind him as he set himself to meet theattack. And he flashed her a look that must have carried a message,for the trembling lips were framing a ghost of a smile as her eyes methis.
Garry's thoughts darted to the gun, but his tightly-wrapped pack wasin the passage outside. He prayed for a moment's time that he mightmeet this mob pistol in hand, and he half turned; but no time wasgiven. The leader was shouting orders, his harsh voice resounded inshattering echoes throughout the stone vault, and the horde of blackssurged forward at his command.
* * * * *
A mass of lean bodies, with faces ugly and brutal where sleep-filledeyes opened wide and glaring! They crowded upon him, and Garry met therush with a rain of straight rights and lefts into the nearest faces.He was carried backward to the wall by the weight of their numbers,but he saw some go down for the count.
The room seemed filled with leaping, shouting men. Their shrill criesechoed in a tumult of discord, and above all Garry heard the hoarsescreams of their leader.
There were fists and ar
ms clubbing at his head. He warded them off,then sprang from the wall, leaping outward and sideways, where therewas room for free swings of his pounding fists. Another black facewent blank under the impact of his blow--a second--and a third!
He was giving ground slowly as the others came on. Then beyond thecrowding figures he saw one who held a trident spear high in air. Theweapon was poised; the metal points shone in the green light--pointsthat would tear his body to shreds at a single blow.
Garry paused but an instant, then opened his clenched fists to clutchthe lean neck of an enemy before him. He whirled the man's body andheld it as a shield while he reached vainly to grip at the thrustingspear. Dimly he saw the flash of white and gold where the girl,Luhra, threw her own body upon the armed figure and clung indesperation to the shaft of the deadly weapon.
* * * * *
Garry hung fast to the struggling body, that was his shield; therewere other spears now that flashed in the air. He loosed one hand andlanded a short jab in the face of a savage whose hands were at histhroat. The blow was light, and he was amazed to see the man staggerand fall. There were others who swayed helplessly and stumbled totheir knees. Spears rang sharply, clattering upon the stone.... Theywere falling. The body he held went suddenly limp within his arms andsagged heavily to the floor....
Garry saw the one who had threatened him drop; he took the girl withhim as he fell, and his spear flew wildly from his open hand. Garrywas alone!--and the enemy was only a tangle of sprawling bodies wherethe twitching of an outflung arm marked the last sign of life.
He was breathing hard, for some of the enemies' blows had landed, andhe staggered as he wiped a trickle of blood from his eyes. No time tofigure what this meant, but the blacks were certainly out of it.Beyond the huddled bodies the tall figure of Horab leaped wildly inair as he sprang forward, and in the same instant Garry threw himselfbetween the black menace and the prostrate girl.
He staggered again as he landed from his wild leap, and he called forhis last reserve of strength to put power behind the blow that helaunched for the snarling face above.
The heavy scepter swung high, and was falling as Garry struck. He sawthe blow start; saw the fiery arc the jeweled head made in descendinglike a mace above his head. Then the face of Horab vanished, and theroom was a whirling place of flashing red and yellow before blacknessblotted it out....
* * * * *
Garry awoke to blink stupidly at a green light above him. His head wasa blinding, throbbing pain that blurred his thoughts.
It cleared slowly. The gleaming figure of a girl was rising from thefloor. His aching eyes saw the white of her young body through thedull glow of golden lace. Her eyes came to his, and sharply herealized that this was no dream--this cave whose walls seemed swaying,the face that was staring pitifully at him, and, beyond, in a ghastlygreen light, the dark silhouette of a lean man who bent his pointedhead above a chest.
Connell's mind was a whirl of snarled thoughts and emotions, ofpuzzled wonder and fighting rage; yet strangely through and above themall was a feeling of pure joy in the message of the eyes in a facethat was utterly lovely.
The black figure had opened the chest. Garry saw the luminous greenabout it shot through with the reflected radiance of many gems. Jewelscascaded brilliantly from the lean black hands as they withdrew agolden cord. Part of some gem-incrusted fabric, it was, that he toreroughly from its rotted fastenings before coming swiftly to the stillhelpless body of Connell.
Garry's struggles were futile; his hands were tied before him. Theshooting pain of a prodding spear brought him from the paralyzingnumbness that held him, and he came dizzily to his feet. Again thewalls whirled, and he would have fallen headlong but for a lithe, softbody that sprang close to throw white arms about him.
Through blood-shot eyes he saw Luhra, of the land of Zahn, with headheld high and flashing eyes as she turned squarely to face the savageblack. And he heard the stream of strange sentences that she pouredprotestingly upon him.
* * * * *
Her message broke off abruptly. Garry's eyes followed hers to watch asavage king, naked but for the tattered remnants of robes that timehad eaten. He was reaching, into a casket that had once held kinglyraiment--reaching with a lean black hand that brought forth onlyfragments of purple and crimson cloth that went quickly to dust withinhis hands.
Garry saw the slitted eyes stare in puzzled wonder at the rottedcloth, then glance sharply and inquiringly about. He saw the black oneplace a jeweled head-dress of barbaric splendor upon his ugly, pointedhead, then rise and cross slowly to the heap of bodies. Spear in hand,he passed on to the serried rows of caskets.
Those nearest were empty, as Garry knew; he had seen the eruption oflife from within them. Horab, with a growled word, moved on to theother caskets that stretched out across the room. The ugly headstooped; again the hands reached down, to come back this time with anempty, gleaming skull.
Garry thought once of his pistol, but knew in the same thought that hecould never reach it; the spear of Horab would crash through him atthe first movement. He dismissed the thought--forgot it--and forgotall else in the fascination of beholding the sagging lips and thescowling stupefaction on the black face of Horab. And slowly therecame to his throbbing brain an explanation.
One hundred summers, Luhra had said--Horab had meant to sleep for ahundred years--and the machine that was to waken him had failed tofunction. Ages beyond computing had passed, and these two only, theblack king and the girl, had survived. They had been directly beneaththe light; its flooding energy had brought them safely through thedreamless years. But, for the others, it had been different.
Those nearest the light had responded to the vibrating call, but theirvitality was gone; their moment of life was short. As for the hundredswho had felt the light but faintly--the skull told the story. Theyhad died as they slept, died thousands of years ago, and theirskeletons were all that remained to mock at their king and thefrustration of his plans.
* * * * *
But what was the purpose of the long sleep? Luhra's touch and hersoundless words supplied the answer.
"Why did he wish this?" her mind said, repeating his question."Horab's own country was lost; the yellow-ones from across the greatwater had conquered and overrun it. But Horab had planted the seeds ofdisease, and the yellow ones must all die in time. Horab is a king anda worker of magic; he is in league with a devil; he learns his magicof him. We of Zahn, all feared the magic of Horab--" She stopped atthe quiver of rock beneath their feet.
Garry's mind had cleared, but it was an instant before he knew thatthe movement was not in his own throbbing head. Then the earth tremorcame unmistakably, and his thoughts flashed back to the mass of rockabove the mouth of the cave. If more quakes were coming they must getout, and do it at once--
The black hand of King Horab cast the skull vindictively against thewall, and the clatter of its falling fragments mingled with strangeoaths from the savage lips. Then he came toward the two and Garrysearched his mind desperately for some means of escape.
The trident spear was aimed, and Garry waited for the throw. He felt,more than saw, the flash of light that was Luhra as she sprang for aspear beside the fallen men. An instant and she was before him, tenseand poised, a golden Amazon, whose upraised arm and steady eyeschecked even Horab in his advance.
She spoke to the savage in sharp, staccato phrases, but Garry got nomeaning from the words. There was a quick interchange between them;vehement protest and shaking of his poised spear on the part ofHorab. Luhra added a word or two, and she lowered her weapon as Horabdid the same.
Her head was bowed as she reached to touch Garry's forehead. He senseda hopeless sorrow that was so plainly hers, but with it he felt amingling of another emotion that stirred him to the depths of hisbeing. The slim, white figure straightened, and the dark eyes squarelyupon his when she spoke.
"L
isten carefully," she said; "it is the last time--"
* * * * *
Garry found himself trembling; he was suddenly breathless withemotion. The racking pain in his head had settled to a dull ache, buthis brain was clear, and through it were flashing strange thoughts.
The threat, the wild adventure itself!--they were nothing before thetruth that was so plain to him now. He loved this girl! he lovedher!--and his whole self responded with an inflow of fresh energy atthe thought. A stranger from a strange, lost world!--but what ofit?--he loved her!... The message from the lips and fingers of thegirl broke in upon the thoughts that were crying for expression.
"You think of me." She smiled with her lips and eyes. "I am glad thatyou do, my dear one, but it is hopeless.
"Listen: I have promised; Luhra has spoken: I will go with Horab to doas he wills. I will go freely, and he will leave you here unharmed. Hepromises me this.
"I will go with Horab far across the blue water that surrounds ushere. It is an island, as you know, for have you not come here fromafar?" Garry broke in with a startled exclamation. An island! Water!He closed his lips upon the denial of her words.
"And you," Luhra continued unheeding, "when we have gone, will returnto your own land.
"But, oh, my dear one, remember always I love you. I have read yourthoughts, oh bravest and tenderest of men; I loved you from themoment when my eyes opened and found you waiting there. I am tellingyou now, for I will never see you again." She broke in upon the wildurge of protest that filled his mind.
With an imperious gesture she motioned Horab to discard his spear, andshe placed hers beside it on the rocky floor. But she flinched andretreated from the outstretched arms and grasping hands, while GarryConnell struggled in insane frenzy at the cords that bound his wrists.
He felt the lean hands of Horab upon him, and the long arms held himin a crushing grip. And he saw the black face laugh evilly at thewatching girl as Horab kicked the spears over beside the casket whereshe had been.
Garry felt himself raised in air, and he was as helpless as a child inthat grasp. An instant later he was thrown heavily, to lie bruised andbreathless in the metal box where first he had seen Luhra's face inwide-eyed awakening.
* * * * *
The rasping voice of Horab rose high and shrill. He was shoutingtriumphantly at the girl, while his hands worked to bind Garry's feet.Luhra's head and shoulders showed above the casket edge as she circledswiftly to approach from the opposite side and reach a trembling handthat would make the contact necessary for thought transference. Hercool touch was upon him; Garry ceased his futile struggle while herwords came, brokenly to his mind.
"Horab has tricked us," she cried; "he is leaving you here. He willparalyze you with the devil song of the bell, but not to sleep as Idid: it will stop on another note. He says you will be always awake,but helpless--thinking--thinking--always!"
She buried her face in her hands to hide from his gaze the horror thatwas in her eyes. Garry Connell's straining hands went limp. The terrorin the girl's voice struck through his own wild medley of thoughts tomake him shudder with realization of the truth.
The threat was real! If Horab left the cave and took Luhra with him,the two would die in the desert. The black savage would never dare toface the strange, new world. And he, Garry, would be here in thiscave, in this very coffin, held in a waking death. No one knew he washere; only by chance would the cave be investigated. And when someonefinally came!
Garry stared in fascination at the green light. He knew with terriblecertainty that whatever help might come would come too late. To liethere hour after hour, for days and then for years--waiting!--alwayswaiting!... And he could never still his thoughts.... He had asickening realization of the thing they would find. A body!--hisbody!--and the mind within it utterly insane....
The sound of the shrieking bell was in his ears, and his nerves weretrembling in response. He saw long arms above the casket, tearing awaythe figure of a struggling girl.... And then he knew he was alone....
* * * * *
The sound of the bell rose to the piercing, nerve-shredding scream he hadheard before. He must think fast--and act!--but the numbness of brain andmuscle was creeping upon him. He tried to call out, but his throat wastight, and would not respond. The echoes died into silence; thevibrations, as before, passed beyond audible range. He was sinking ...sinking....
Dimly he felt the casket shaking beneath him. In some distant cornerof his mind he knew that the earthquake shocks had turned. Then heheard with ear-splitting plainness the shrieking discord as the tremorshook the vibrating machine to silence.
The room was quiet; the paralysis left him; and in the instant of hisrelease the clear brain of Garry Connell flashed from chaos to laybefore him a full-formed plan.
"Luhra!" he called in the silent room. "Luhra!" But it seemed an agebefore he heard Horab and his captive returning from the passage. Thenthe touch of her hand gave him courage to continue.
"Yes?" she whispered; "yes, my dear one?"
He saw the shoulders of the black as he half-raised a spearthreateningly toward the girl, then turned to adjust the whirringmachine.
"Tell him," shouted Garry, "--tell Horab to shut off that damnablemachine!" The shriek of it was rising again to drown his voice. "Tellhim his life depends upon it. Tell him to listen to what I say or hewill die."
He heard the girl's voice raised in a high-pitched call, and he heardthe rasping snarl of Horab in reply. The girl repeated her cry abovethe echoing clamor of the bell--and the intolerable, rising scream,after a time, was stilled.
Garry experienced one raging moment when he would have given his hopeof life for the ability to talk to Horab face to face and in wordsthat could penetrate the black one's brain. But he could not. He mustuse this girl as an interpreter, and he must give her words to saythat would make this ugly beast pause. He must speak as she wouldspeak; put words and sentences into her mouth that would reach thesavage superstitions of the other.
He spoke slowly, and stared impressively into the dark, fear-filledeyes in the white face that bent above him. He must make the girlbelieve.
"Horab works magic," he told her. "Tell Horab that I, too, am amagician--a great magician--a greater one than Horab."
* * * * *
He waited an instant to hear the girl's words and the disdainfullaughter from lips in a savage face thrust close to where he lay.
"Horab is truly a magician," said Luhra doubtfully; "he laughs at yourmagic. Horab's _Tao_ is a strong _Tao_, wicked and powerful."
"His _Tao_?" said Garry, and looked at the girl questioningly. He gotthe thought in her mind. "Oh, yes--his god, or devil."
He turned his head to stare straight into the grinning face whose wide,thin lips were twisted into a leering snarl. Garry had to summon allhis power of will to hold the look that he gave his enemy and tolaugh, in his turn, long and contemptuously. Another tremor shook thecasket where he lay.
"Tell Horab," he ordered, while his eyes stared steadily into those ofthe savage king, "--tell Horab my _Tao_ is stronger than his. My _Tao_is angry because I have been harmed; he is shaking the mountain. Hewill shake it down on Horab and crush out his life."
He continued to stare while he heard Luhra's voice, high with hope,and he saw a change of expression flicker across the black face,though Horab shouted a vehement reply.
Luhra was speaking to him. "Horab says the earth has shaken before;that it is not your _Tao_ who shakes it. He asks for another sign."
Garry was not surprised. He had fired this shot at random; the tremoritself had suggested it. And now--
"Another sign!" Garry had to fight hard for self-control to keep fromshouting the truth to this evil thing--to keep from telling him of thetime that had passed, and of the world that was waiting for him. Butthat would never do: he must play upon this black one's superstitions.Let Horab once lea
ve this cave with that devilish, soundless screamringing in his ears and he, Garry Connell, was lost. And Luhra!--whathope for her out there?... The black hands were moving impatientlytoward the machine....
Garry found himself speaking slowly--short sentences that Luhraquickly repeated. And something within him rose to frame words such asGarry Connell, man of the desert, would never have thought tospeak--phrases that best might reach a savage, vicious mind.
* * * * *
He glanced once at the watch on his wrist. He did not feel the tortureof the tight gold cord. He was thinking in terms of daylight, and ofhow much time had passed since he had seen the sun....
"Horab shall have a sign--a terrible sign," he said. "Death waits forHorab in the world outside, my _Tao_ tells me. Horab shall diehorribly. I see him choking in the hot sand. His tongue fills hismouth. The hot sun burns, and he is filled with fire. He tries toscream--to call upon his _Tao_--but he makes no sound.... And so shallHorab die."
The girl translated swiftly; the answer was a wild cry of rage fromthe black. He sprang beside the helpless man and his spear was raisedhigh.
Garry felt the weight of Luhra's body thrown protectingly across him,and looked up to see murder in the savage, slitted eyes. "Tell Horab,"he directed sharply, "that if be harms you or me the burning death ishis! But--" He waited deliberately after Luhra had spoken, and he sawplainly the flicker of fear in the ugly face. Now was the time.
"Unbind my feet!" he ordered, and he put into his voice all the forceand menace he could muster. "Take me to the outer world. Take yourspear. If I do not speak truth, kill me there. My _Tao_ will show youa sign; he will fill your heart with fear as it now is filled withevil. But, it may be I can save you. Unbind my feet! Be quick!"
Again he waited while Luhra spoke, and he cursed silently with theagony of waiting. To be playing a part, speaking these absurdlychildish things, when what he wanted was his hand upon a gun or in agrip of death about that black throat! Yet he lay as still as if thevibrations of the bell were upon him, and his eyes held unwaveringlyupon the savage face, until he felt the fumbling of hands about hisfeet....
* * * * *
A square-cut portal!--and beyond it a golden sun that shone throughmists of purple and rose! Was he too late? Garry pressed forward inwhat would have been a clumsy run, but for the spear that had proddedhim through all the long passage, and that warned now againstattempted escape.
The brilliance and heat that struck him when he stepped, out into theopen brought Garry in a flash from the world of horror andmake-believe into the world he knew. He wanted to shout for sheer joy;but more than all else he wanted to leap at the ugly thing who stoodblinking his eyes in the mouth of the cave.
The thought of escape was strong upon him, but the touch of a timidhand showed the folly of that. Luhra was beside him, her filmylacework shining softly in the sun, to make more lovely the delicateflush beneath. Her eyes, shielded from the sun, were upon him with alook half hopeful, half despairing. No, he must see it through--go onwith his play-acting--meet magic with magic. Horab had come out fromthe cave, and spear in hand he stood commandingly above them on a hugeboulder. Yes, the magic must go on.
The harsh voice of the savage ripped out unintelligible words. Luhratranslated. "It is changed," she said, "and Horab fears. But the wateris there, and there is no burning death.... He says your _Tao_ isweak."
Garry stared with thankful eyes across the blue expanse where a lineof white marked ghostly breakers on a distant shore; where hills werereflected in the shimmering blue. But the sun was still above theirtops, so he must spar for time--
"My _Tao_ is strong," he said, and went on with whatever fantasticthoughts came into his mind. He was talking against time. He told ofthe new world his _Tao_ had built, of men harnessing the lightning andflying through the air; of cannon that roared like the thunder andthrew death and destruction upon those that the _Tao_ woulddestroy.... And his eyes watched the slow descent of the dropping sun,while the figure above stirred impatiently and raised his spear.
"A sign!" Luhra was imploring. "He does not believe!"
The golden ball was touching now on a distant, purple peak. Theamazing magic of the desert!--its moment had come! Garry indicated asbest he could the phantom sea, so real, below.
"My _Tao_ has spoken," he shouted: "watch! The waters shall be driedup; the seas shall become a desert of hot sand; the lands and watersthat Horab knows shall be no more! There shall be no food for hisstomach nor water for his lips where Horab wanders in torment....Unless I save him."
* * * * *
He turned to stare at the vast mirage. He knew that the eyes of theothers had followed his, and he knew that they saw the first changethat crept over the land.
The blue that was so unmistakably a sea was dissolving; it seemedsucked into the sand. And, while yet the hot rays cast their lingeringgold over mountain and plain, the seas faded and were gone ... andwhere they had been in unquestioned reality was only yellow sand thatwhirled hotly and drifted in the first breath of the coming night....
The towering figure above them stood rigid. Garry had found a sharpedge of rock, and sawed frantically upon it to cut the soft gold ofthe cords at his wrists. The one above them paid no heed; his eyeswere held in horror of this silent death that swept across the world.
The hand that Garry extended was steady and cautious; his arm creptabout the body of white and gold to draw the amazed and wondering girlsilently into the open cave.
"Follow!" he ordered, and dashed headlong down the darkened way wherean automatic was waiting for his eager fingers.
The pack was there, and he tore at it with frenzied hands to grip atthe pistol within. And there was also an open chest whose contentsglittered in the green light, and whose weight was not too great forhim to carry....
He had both chest and gun when he returned. The stumbling falls in hismad rush had not served to allay the hurts of his tortured body, norstill his raging fury. He called to Luhra as he ran--and realized thatLuhra was gone. The chest fell forgotten at his feet as he rushed out;he shouted her name and cursed himself for leaving her.
* * * * *
Had the fascination of the outer world drawn her back? Had she trustedtoo greatly in the power of his Tao to shield her from harm? Connellcould not know. He knew only that he saw her struggling in the grip ofthe long arms where the black one held her on an outthrust rock.
They were a hundred feet away, yet the black face beneath its pointedskull showed plainly its bestial fury as Garry sprang forward. Withone motion the tall figure dashed the girl to the stone at his feetand raised his spear. He paused to laugh harshly at the man who rushedtoward him--who could never reach him to stop the fatal thrust.
A threat, it might have been, to hold the attacker off, or a murderousintent to end now and forever this one captive's life: Garry did notwait to learn. And the hundred-foot distance that meant a hundred feetof safety to the savage was spanned by a stream of lead from a gunwhose stabbing flashes cracked sharply upon the still air. The ringingclatter of a spear that fell among granite stones came thinly to Garryas he saw the black form of Horab, king of another day, spin dizzilyfrom the rock on which he stood.
He had hit him--wounded him at least--and the firing of that wildfusillade might have emptied the magazine! Gary waited for nothingmore, but gathered the limp body of the girl within his outstretchedarms and carried her stumblingly across the welter of rocks on theboulder-strewn slope. Nor did he stop until he had gained the safetyof open ground beyond the marks of the great slide.
* * * * *
The earth was shivering and weaving as he laid her down; a rockcrashed sharply in the distance. Garry turned to retrace his steps andleap wildly from rock to rock toward the mouth of the cave in agranite cliff. And the metal chest was in his arms when he returnedwhere Luhra waited.
&nbs
p; The ground was alive with sickening motion, he was nauseated withearthquake sickness, but he gave thought only to his gun and the onecartridge that he found in the chamber. He steadied his arm upon arock to take aim at a figure on a distant slope.
Horab had climbed back upon the rock. A lean figure and black, he wassharply outlined in the last rays of the setting sun; the target wasclear beyond the pistol's sights. But the fingers of the grim-facedman refused to tighten upon the trigger.
Savage and cruel--a relic of a bygone age! He stood there, ludicrousand unreal in his stark black nakedness, his frayed robes of crimsonwhipping to tatters in the breeze. Yet he had forgotten hiswounds--Horab was standing upright--and Garry's hand that held thepistol fell loosely at his side. The hate melted from his heart as hewatched where Horab drew himself painfully erect.
A barbarous figure was Horab, and evil beyond redemption, yet therewere not lacking the attributes of a king in the grotesque form whosehead was still held high. The sun made flashing brilliance of thejewels on that distorted head, while he stared with hopeless, savageeyes across the changed world where he could have no part. His _Tao_had failed him; his enemy had struck him down; and now--
The rock that had been a rest for Garry's arm was swaying, and to hisears came a rumble and groan. Sentinel Mountain, that had watched theages pass, that had seen the oceans truly change to sand, protestedagain at this disturbance of its own long sleep.
Garry heard the coming of the masses from above; the crashing din wasdeadening to his ears. They were safe--and his eyes were upon a savagefigure, black and tall, that stared and stared, silently, across a seaof yellow sand. He watched it, clear-cut, motionless--until itvanished beneath the roaring flood of rocks.
* * * * *
And close in his arms there pressed the soft body of a trembling girlwho touched his face and whispered: "Your _Tao_, my brave one, isstrong. Hold me closely that he may count me as your friend."
His own whispered words, though differing somewhat, were a ferventecho of hers. He saw the rocky masses piled high where the mouth of acave had been; and "Thank God!" Garry Connell said, "we got out ofthere in time!"
The casket of jewels lay neglected among the rocks: to-morrow would betime enough to salvage the wealth for which he had risked his life. Heswept the girl into his arms, and the sun's last rays made goldensplendor of his burden as he carried her across the broken stones.
His ranch showed far below him when he stopped, but the green of datepalms had vanished under the last great sweep of rocks. Some few thatremained made dark splotches among the shadows that were engulfing theworld.
What did it matter? Miramar--"Beautiful Sea!" He laughed grimly atthought of how that sea had served him, but his eyes were tender inhis tanned and blood-stained face.
Miramar could be restored. And it would be less lonely now....
ROBOT CHEMIST
A robot chemist with an electric eye, radio brain and magnet handsfunctioned without human supervision in an improvised laboratoryrecently before members of the New York Electrical Society.
The automatic chemist performed several experiments. Its work wasexplained by William C. MacTavish, professor of chemistry at New YorkUniversity, and was part of a program in which cold light wasreproduced, a sample weighing a millionth of a gram analyzed, aphoto-electric cell used to control analysis and new scientificapparatus demonstrated.
In his talk on "The Magic of Modern Chemistry," Professor MacTavishdemonstrated the separation of para-hydrogen and ortho-hydrogen. Inthe micro-analysis of a millionth of a gram, Professor MacTavishexhibited in the micro-projector a ball of gold weighing onethousandth of a milligram (one twenty-eight millionth of an ounce),having a value of less than one ten-thousandth of a cent.
The robot chemist was the joint creation of Dr. H. M. Partridge andProfessor Ralph H. Muller of the department of chemistry at New YorkUniversity. In explaining what the automatic chemist can do, ProfessorMacTavish said:
"The ability of the automatic chemist to control chemical operationsis due to its sensitivity to slight variations in color and lightintensity. Its working parts are very simple. They consist of astandard light source, in this case an electric light, aphoto-electric cell which detects differences in the amount of lightimpinging on it, a radio tube which amplifies the signal received fromthe photo-electric cell and which operates the relays controlling theautomatic valves.
"Between the electric light and the photo-electric cell is placed aglass vessel holding an alkali that is to be neutralized. Above is atube from which an acid passes, drop by drop, through an automaticvalve, into the alkali. A small amount of chemical indicator added tothe alkali maintains a red color in it until it is neutralized. When asufficient amount of the acid has dropped into the alkali, the redcolor disappears, indicating complete neutralization.
"When the solution is colored red, an insufficient amount of lightsgets through to the photo-electric cell. As the red color graduallydiminishes, the amount of light passing through increases, and whenthe solution is entirely clear the light reaches a critical valuewhich causes the photo-electric cell to pass a signal to the radiotube. This tube operates the relay which closes a valve and shuts offthe supply of acid.
"Using a device of this sort to perform such operations around alaboratory will save a great deal of a chemist's time. Its electriceye is about 165 times as sensitive to differences in color as anyhuman eye."