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societies　ducked　and　swayed　and　formed　rare

nuclei　of　organisation　in　the　chaos。　Up　the　steep

stairs　of　wall　and　scaffolding　by　which　his　rescuers

had　reached　the　opening　in　the　Atlas　Chamber；　clung

a　solid　crowd；　and　little　energetic　black　figures　

clinging　to　pillars　and　projections　were　strenuous　to　induce

these　congested　masses　to　stir。　Behind　him；　at　a

higher　point　on　the　scaffolding；　a　number　of　men

struggled　upwards　with　the　flapping　folds　of　a　huge

black　standard。　Through　the　yawning　gap　in　the

walls　below　him　he　could　look　down　upon　the　packed

attentive　multitudes　in　the　Hall　of　the　Atlas。　The

distant　flying　stages　to　the　south　came　out　bright　and

vivid；　brought　nearer　as　it　seemed　by　an　unusual

translucency　of　the　air。　A　solitary　aeropile　beat　up

from　the　central　stage　as　if　to　meet　the　coming

aeroplanes。



〃What　had　become　of　Ostrog？〃　asked　Graham；　and

even　as　he　spoke　he　saw　that　all　eyes　were　turned

from　him　towards　the　crest　of　the　Council　House

building。　He　looked　also　in　this　direction　of　universal

attention。　For　a　moment　he　saw　nothing　but　the

jagged　corner　of　a　wall；　hard　and　clear　against　the

sky。　Then　in　the　shadow　he　perceived　the　interior　of

a　room　and　recognised　with　a　start　the　green　and

white　decorations　of　his　former　prison。　And　coming

quickly　across　this　opened　room　and　up　to　the　very

verge　of　the　cliff　of　the　ruins　came　a　little　white　clad

figure　followed　by　two　other　smaller　seeming　figures

in　black　and　yellow。　He　heard　the　man　beside　him

exclaim　〃Ostrog；〃　and　turned　to　ask　a　question。　But

he　never　did；　because　of　the　startled　exclamation　of

another　of　those　who　were　with　him　and　a　lank　finger

suddenly　pointing。　He　looked；　and　behold　the

aeropile　that　had　been　rising　from　the　flying　stage

when　last　he　had　looked　in　that　direction；　was　driving

towards　them。　The　swift　steady　flight　was　still　novel

enough　to　hold　his　attention。



Nearer　it　came；　growing　rapidly　larger　and　larger；

until　it　had　swept　over　the　further　edge　of　the　ruins

and　into　view　of　the　dense　multitudes　below。　It

drooped　across　the　space　and　rose　and　passed　

overhead；　rising　to　clear　the　mass　of　the　Council　House；

a　filmy　translucent　shape　with　the　solitary　aeronaut

peering　down　through　its　ribs。　It　vanished　beyond

the　skyline　of　the　ruins。



Graham　transferred　his　attention　to　Ostrog。　He

was　signalling　with　his　hands；　and　his　attendants　busy

breaking　down　the　wall　beside　him。　In　another

moment　the　aeropile　came　into　view　again；　a　little

thing　far　away；　coming　round　in　a　wide　curve　and

going　slower。



Then　suddenly　the　man　in　yellow　shouted：　〃What

are　they　doing？　What　are　the　people　doing？　Why

is　Ostrog　left　there？　Why　is　he　not　captured？　They

will　lift　himthe　aeropile　will　lift　him！　Ah！〃



The　exclamation　was　echoed　by　a　shout　from　the

ruins。　The　rattling　sound　of　the　green　weapons

drifted　across　the　intervening　gulf　to　Graham；　and；

looking　down；　he　saw　a　number　of　black　and　yellow

uniforms　running　along　one　of　the　galleries　that　lay

open　to　the　air　below　the　promontory　upon　which

Ostrog　stood。　They　fired　as　they　ran　at　men　unseen；

and　then　emerged　a　number　of　pale　blue　figures　in

pursuit。　These　minute　fighting　figures　had　the　oddest

effect；　they　seemed　as　they　ran　like　little　model

soldiers　in　a　toy。　This　queer　appearance　of　a

house　cut　open　gave　that　struggle　amidst　furniture

and　passages　a　quality　of　unreality。　It　was　perhaps

two　hundred　yards　away　from　him；　and　very　nearly

fifty　above　the　heads　in　the　ruins　below。　The　black

and　yellow　men　ran　into　an　open　archway；　and　turned

and　fired　a　volley。　One　of　the　blue　pursuers　striding

forward　close　to　the　edge；　flung　up　his　arms；　

staggered　sideways；　seemed　to　Graham's　sense　to　hang

over　the　edge　for　several　seconds；　and　fell　headlong

down。　Graham　saw　him　strike　a　projecting　corner；　fly

out；　head　over　heels；　head　over　heels；　and　vanish

behind　the　red　arm　of　the　building　machine。



And　then　a　shadow　came　between　Graham　and　the

sun。　He　looked　up　and　the　sky　was　clear；　but　he

knew　the　aeropile　had　passed。　Ostrog　had　vanished。

The　man　in　yellow　thrust　before　him；　zealous　and　

perspiring；　pointing　and　blatent。



〃They　are　grounding！〃　cried　the　man　in　yellow。

〃They　are　grounding。　Tell　the　people　to　fire　at　him。

Tell　them　to　fire　at　him！〃



Graham　could　not　understand。　He　heard　loud

voices　repeating　these　enigmatical　orders。



Suddenly　over　the　edge　of　the　ruins　he　saw　the　prow

of　the　aeropile　come　gliding　and　stop　with　a　jerk。　In

a　moment　Graham　understood　that　the　thing　had

grounded　in　order　that　Ostrog　might　escape　by　it。

He　saw　a　blue　haze　climbing　out　of　the　gulf；　perceived

that　the　people　below　him　were　now　firing　up　at　the

projecting　stem。



A　man　beside　him　cheered　hoarsely；　and　he　saw

that　the　blue　rebels　had　gained　the　archway　that　had

been　contested　by　the　men　in　black　and　yellow　a

moment　before；　and　were　running　in　a　continual

stream　along　the　open　passage。



And　suddenly　the　aeropile　slipped　over　the　edge　of

the　Council　House　and　fell。　It　dropped；　tilting　at　an

angle　of　forty…five　degrees；　and　dropping　so　steeply

that　it　seemed　to　Graham；　it　seemed　perhaps　to　most

of　these　below；　that　it　could　not　possibly　rise　again。



It　fell　so　closely　past　him　that　he　could　see　Ostrog

clutching　the　guides　of　the　seat；　with　his　grey　hair

streaming；　see　the　white…faced　aeronaut　wrenching

over　the　lever　that　drove　the　engine　along　its　guides。

He　heard　the　apprehensive　vague　cry　of　innumerable

men　below。



Graham　clutched　the　railing　before　him　and　gasped。

The　second　seemed　an　age。　The　lower　van　of　the

aeropile　passed　within　an　ace　of　touching　the　people；

who　yelled　and　screamed　and　trampled　one　another

below。



And　then　it　rose。　



For　a　moment　it　looked　as　if　it　could　not　possibly

clear　the　opposite　cliff；　and　then　that　it　could　not

possibly　clear　the　wind…wheel　that　rotated　beyond。



And　behold！　it　was　clear　and　soaring；　still　heeling

sideways；　upward；　upward　into　the　wind…swept　sky。



The　suspense　of　the　moment　gave　place　to　a　fury　of　

exasperation　as　the　swarming　people　realised　that

Ostrog　had　escaped　them。　With　belated　activity　they

renewed　their　fire；　until　the　rattling　wove　into　a　roar；

until　the　whole　area　became　dim　and　blue　and　the　air

pungent　with　the　thin　smoke　of　their　weapons。



Too　late！　The　aeropile　dwindled　smaller　and

smaller；　and　curved　about　and　swept　gracefully　

downward　to　the　flying　stage　from　which　it　had　so　lately

risen。　Ostrog　had　escaped。



For　a　while　a　confused　babblement　arose　from　the

ruins；　and　then　the　universal　attention　came　back　to

Graham；　perched　high　among　the　scaffolding。　He

saw　the　faces　of　the　people　turned　towards　him；　heard

their　shouts　at　his　rescue。　From　the　throat　of　the

ways　came　the　song　of　the　revolt　spreading　like　a

breeze　across　that　swaying　sea　of　men。



The　little　group　of　men　about　him　shouted　

congratulations　on　his　escape。　The　man　in　yellow　was

close　to　him；　with　a　set　face　and　shining　eyes。　And

the　song　was　rising；　louder　and　louder；　tramp；　tramp；

tramp；　tramp。



Slowly　the　realisation　came　of　the　full　meaning　of

these　things　to　him；　the　perception　of　the　swift　change

in　his　position。　Ostrog；　who　had　stood　beside　him

whenever　he　had　faced　that　shouting　multitude　before；

was　beyond　therethe　antagonist。　There　was　no

one　to　rule　for　him　any　longer。　Even　the　people

about　him；　the　leaders　and　organisers　of　the　multitude；

looked　to　see　what　he　would　do；　looked　to　him　to　act；

awaited　his　orders。　He　was　King　indeed。　His

puppet　reign　was　at　an　end。



He　was　very　intent　to　do　the　thing　that　was

expected　of　him。　His　nerves　and　muscles　were　quivering；　

his　mind　was　perhaps　a　little　confused；　but　he

felt　neither　fear　nor　anger。　His　hand　that　had　been

trodden　upon　throbbed　and　was　hot。　He　was　a　little

nervous　about　his　bearing。　He　knew　he　was　not

afraid；　but　he　was　anxious　not　to　seem　afraid。　In　his

former　life　he　had　often　been　more　excited　in　playing

games　of　skill。　He　was　desirous　of　immediate　action；

he　knew　he　must　not　think　too　much　in　detail　of　the

huge　complexity　of　the　struggle　about　him　lest　he

should　be　paralysed　by　the　sense　of　its　intricacy。

Over　there　those　square　blue　shapes；　the　flying　stages；

meant　Ostrog；　against　Ostrog　he　was　fighting　for　the

world。



CHAPTER　XXIII



WHILE　THE　AEROLANES　WERE　COMING



For　a　time　the　Master　of　the　Earth　was　not　even

master　of　his　own　mind。　Even　his　will　seemed　a　will

not　his　own；　his　own　acts　surprised　him　and　were　but

a　part　of　the　confusion　of　strange　experiences　that

poured　across　his　being。　These　things　were　definite；

the　aeroplanes　were　coming；　Helen　Wotton　had　

warned　the　people　of　their　coming；　and　he　was　Master

of　the　Earth。　Each　of　these　facts　seemed　struggling

for　complete　possession　of　his　thoughts。　They　

protruded　from