us. Hollis, who was now in command, consulted his wrist-watch at

frequent intervals.

"Gad," exclaimed Short, "we ought to be hearing from him pretty

soon!"

Hollis laughed nervously. "He's been gone only ten minutes," he

announced.

"Seems like an hour," snapped Short. "What's that? Did you hear

that? He's firing! It's the machine-gun! Oh, Lord; and here we

are as helpless as a lot of old ladies ten thousand miles away!

We can't do a thing. We don't know what's happening. Why didn't

he let one of us go with him?"

Yes, it was the machine-gun. We would hear it distinctly for at

least a minute. Then came silence. That was two weeks ago. We

have had no sign nor signal from Tom Billings since.

Chapter 2

I'll never forget my first impressions of Caspak as I circled in,

high over the surrounding cliffs. From the plane I looked down

through a mist upon the blurred landscape beneath me. The hot,

humid atmosphere of Caspak condenses as it is fanned by the cold

Antarctic air-currents which sweep across the crater's top, sending

a tenuous ribbon of vapor far out across the Pacific. Through this

the picture gave one the suggestion of a colossal impressionistic

canvas in greens and browns and scarlets and yellows surrounding

the deep blue of the inland sea--just blobs of color taking form

through the tumbling mist.

I dived close to the cliffs and skirted them for several miles

without finding the least indication of a suitable landing-place;

and then I swung back at a lower level, looking for a clearing close

to the bottom of the mighty escarpment; but I could find none of

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