They had progressed not more than twenty paces into the dense undergrowth when the gleaming wall of the Tritu Anu was entirely hidden from view.  The artificial sunlight seeped through the mass of vegetation overhead, a ghostly green twilight that made death masks of their faces.  But of the lights themselves, of the great latticed columns, of the enormous sponge-like blossoms of the upper surface of the jungle sea, nothing could be seen.  They were deep in a tangled maze of translucent flora that was like nothing so much as a forest of giant seaweed transplanted from its natural element.  The moss-like carpet beneath their feet was slushy wet and condensed moisture rained steadily from the matted fronds and tendrils above.  The air they breathed was hot and stifling; laden with rank odors and curling mists that assailed throat and head passages with choking effect.

Weird whisperings there were from above and all about them.  It seemed almost that the uncanny, weaving green things were alive and voicing indignant protest over the intrusion of the three humans.

Ankle deep in the rain-soaked moss, their clothing drenched and steaming, they pressed ever deeper into the tangle.  All sense of direction was lost.

“Guess we’d better rest now,” said Blaine, seeing that Ulana was gasping from her exertions, “They’ll never trail us here.”

“How about this crystal thing-the searching ray?” Tommy ventured.

“It can not follow us,” the girl explained, “Certain juices of the plants provide an insulator against the ray.  In fact, it was an extract of these that was used in protecting the underground laboratory we just left.  We are safe now and I am very tired.”

So that was the reason Tiedus had been so certain they would be safe in the jungle!  Blaine had wondered about that searching ray, and now Ulana’s statement had stilled his doubts.  Poor kid-she was all in!  Her shoulders drooped and she leaned on his arm for support.  His conscience troubled him for having forced the pace in the difficult footing.  They need not have come so far in.

A glint of light through the close packed stems caught his eye; something phosphorescent it was, shining there in the green twilight.  A giant mushroom!  Towering seven feet from the ground, the great umbrella-like top was aglow with sulphurous light on its under side.  And, beneath its ten foot spread, the mossy carpet was dry.  An ideal shelter.  Here Ulana might find the rest she so sorely needed, and in comparative comfort.

She curled up beside the huge stem and, half buried in warm, dry moss, immediately fell asleep.  The Earth men sat gazing solemnly at each other; speechless.  In the dim distance the roar of a monorail car rose faintly at first, then grew louder and louder, only to fade away once more into the whispering silence.  A steady patter of jungle rain drummed on the mushroom top.

“God!” Tommy muttered, after a while.  “I’d give my right eye for a cigarette.”

“Me too.”  Blaine was hugging his knees, nodding drowsily.  “A nice rare steak with mushroom sauce wouldn’t go so bad, either,” he drawled.

“Aw, have a heart.  I’m so sick of these vitamin pills of theirs I never want to see one again.”

“Yeah, but they’re better than nothing.  We haven’t any of those even.”

“Say!” Tommy jumped to his feet in sudden remembrance.  “I saw a bush, back there about fifty feet, with bunches of big red berries on it.  Like grapes, they looked.  May be good to eat.”

“Sure, they may be.  And then again they may be poison.  We can’t take any chances like that.  Leave ’em alone.”

Tommy growled unintelligibly and fell to walking around their shelter with nervous strides, keeping just within the dry area and glaring savagely into the steaming jungle.  Blaine smiled grimly.  Nerves!  Tommy always was like that; always had to be on the go and doing something.  His own nerves were jumpy to-day.  They were in hot water this time, for sure.  Had to keep on though; they were still alive, or at least half alive; and the solar system was intact as yet.  If only Tom Farley would quit his infernal tramping!

“Cut it out!” Blaine snapped peevishly.  “You’ll have us both bughouse.  Can’t you sit down and take it easy?”

Tommy stopped in his tracks.  “Sorry, Blaine,” he said.  But he remained standing, staring off into the jungle.  Then, suddenly he exclaimed, “Say, I’m going for some of those grapes, or whatever they are.  I’ll bring a mess of them back and we can wait till Ulana wakes up.  She’ll know whether they’re poison or not.”

“Oh, go ahead.  But don’t get yourself lost.  Yell out if you can’t find us and I’ll answer.”

“Okay.  Don’t worry about me.”  And in three steps Tommy was swallowed up in the undergrowth.

Blaine stole a glance at the girl and something caught at his throat.  God, she was beautiful!  There must be some way of getting her out of this mess.  Dantor, perhaps, might show the way.  He ought to be sending that message soon-a mental one, Tiedus said.  Poor kid, Tiedus; gone to the happy hunting grounds now, no question of that.  And he intended to advise Dantor from the spirit world.  As simple as that, it was.  They were game, these Rulans.  Fatalists, though, and resigned to the inevitable; hopeless.  But a wonderful people in a rotten world.

Soon he felt his head droop and in a moment he began to doze.

When he awoke it was to the touch of Ulana’s soft fingers on his arm.  “We are alone?” she asked.

“Lord!” he exclaimed, rising stiffly and rubbing the sleep from his eyes.  “How long have I napped?  I shouldn’t have.”

A swift look around the small clearing disclosed the fact that Tommy was missing.  He shouldn’t have let him go.  A sudden panic gripped him.

“Tommy!  Tommy!” he called out.

There was not even an echo in reply.  Only the whispering of the jungle overhead and all around them.  His friend was gone.

“Ulana,” he said, his voice trembling, “we are alone.  Farley is lost; swallowed up in this terrible forest.”

And then, suddenly, she was in his arms.  Those wondrous blue eyes, swimming in tears, looked into his own.  Soft red lips, upturned, met his lips; clung there.

“I am sorry, my Carson,” she said softly, when he had released her:  “sorry that your good friend is lost.  But perhaps,” more brightly-“he has but strayed away.  When the mental message comes you will be reunited.  He will hear it as well as you.”

Blaine shook his head.  In his own heart he knew he would never see Tommy again.  He had wandered too close to the Tritu Anu and had been overpowered by the green-bronze guards.  Their ray pistols-he shuddered at the thought.

“I have you now, my Carson,” the girl was saying.  “Only you.”

In a daze of pain and happiness intermingled, he knew he was holding her close, drawing her fiercely to him.  And then, raising dull eyes to stare over the precious head and into the jungle that hid his friend, he froze with horror.

A flat serpent head with wide slavering mouth and beady eyes swayed there directly behind her.  Pendant, it was, on a scaly and slimy length of undulating body that coiled high above in the matted growths of the jungle.  As he watched, rooted to the spot, the great head drew back and poised, vibrating, ready to strike.

In one quick movement he flung the girl aside and whipped out the ray pistol he had taken from Pegrani.  He pressed the release and a whirring sound came from the little weapon.  But no crackling blue flame sprang forth to blast this creature into nothingness.  Jumping aside, he was thrown to the ground by its lashing body as the great snake struck and missed.

But the pistol was useless.  Short circuited by moisture, no doubt.  He crouched there, calling huskily to Ulana.  She must run for it; force her way into the thick undergrowth where the thing could not reach her.  She lay there, helpless with terror.  Then, in a flash, she was on her feet dashing to his side.  God, the huge head was poised there again!  Pulsating!  The glittering avid eyes upon them!

Instinctively Blaine raised the pistol just as the head darted downward.  The release clicked home.  And, wonder of wonders, the blue flame crackled spitefully.  Exploding atoms, dazzling in the green twilight.  Mighty thrashings of the huge coils high up in the tangled foliage.  Crashing and tearing of great stems and rope-like tendrils.  But the enormous body was headless; a dead thing in the throes of its final reflexes.  Only the one charge had been spoiled; the little pistol had served them well.

He drew Ulana into the thickest of the undergrowth for protection against the tremendous lashing thing that crashed into the small clearing where the giant mushroom grew.  Their shelter was destroyed.  He must find another; he must be forever on guard over this girl whose hand clung so confidently to his own as they wedged their way into the thicket.

“Carson!  Ulana!” A familiar voice rose above the whisperings of the jungle.  A voice familiar, yet unreal; supernatural; a calm, commanding one that did not sound but echoed only in the consciousness.

“Hark!” Ulana gripped his hand more tightly.  “Did you hear?  It is Dantor.  The message Tiedus promised.”

In awed silence they waited.  A tiny ball of orange fire flamed suddenly in the depths of the rushes directly before them.  A sign!

“Ah, you are there!” the voice broke in.  “I have your mental reactions.  You will follow the orange beacon to the Tritu Anu where I await your coming.  Be of good cheer, my children.”

What magic was this?  The science of the Rulans was beyond the comprehension of the Earth man.  Here was telepathy in its most perfect form.  Communications from the spirit plane; the orange flame-it was all so utterly fantastic that Blaine had to look earnestly at the girl to assure himself it was not a dream.  She smiled confidently.

And the orange flame was moving off into the undergrowth.  They must follow its beckoning, flickering light.

It was a nightmare, that journey back through the jungle to the Tritu Anu.  Dantor must be in a fearful hurry, for the orange flame moved swiftly.  If they stopped a moment to rest it danced there impatiently, then receded into the green shadows until they were forced to follow for fear of losing it.  Ulana’s light robe was torn and sodden with moisture.  The perfectly rounded ivory shoulders, bare now, were scratched and bleeding from contact with thorny protubérances that covered some of the lighter reed-like stems.

But the brave girl was uncomplaining.  She clung doggedly to the Earth man’s hand when they were able to walk erect:  followed swiftly and unquestioningly when they were compelled to crawl or wriggle through an almost impenetrable thicket.

Once she cried out in alarm and Blaine turned back to see that the wiry tendrils of a spiny, globular plant had wound themselves around her slim body and held her fast.  As he grasped her hand to draw her away, others of the tendrils curled about his wrist and he too was imprisoned.  They burned the flesh, those writhing things, and tugged mightily.  Ulana screamed with the pain of the many that held her in their tightening grasp.

It was alive, this thing that grew there, a huge ball with a thousand stinging tentacles.  A carnivorous plant.  Even as the realization flashed across his mind he saw that the spiny sphere was opening.  Split vertically, the two halves fell apart to disclose the steaming interior whose walls were lined with sharp dagger-like projections a foot in length.  And the wiry tendrils were drawing them in!

Almost insane with horror, Blaine released the disintegrating energy of the weapon he still carried in his free hand.  Twice he pressed its release and twice the searing blue flame spurted from the glass tube that was its muzzle.  Only a few charges remained now in the marvelous weapon but once more it had served then well.  The open-mouthed plant monster vanished with the clearing of the blue vapor and the ensnaring tendrils relaxed, falling from their bodies like so many loosened cords.  Blaine caught the swooning girl in his arms.

Half carrying her, he struggled on after the orange flare.  The base of one of the latticed supporting columns loomed vast in the eery twilight gloom, and he leaned a moment against one of its vine-wrapped members.  The girl was exhausted and hung limp in his circling right arm.  Still the orange beacon danced on.  If only Dantor would ease up a bit.  Couldn’t he give them a little time?

On and on he staggered, ploughing through the sloppy footing and the dripping clinging greens that were everywhere in his path.  Slimy fronds wrapped themselves around them, impeding his progress; clinging as if they too were alive.  The whispering silence closed in on them, vast and mysterious.  Menacing; awful....

And then he stumbled against a metallic wall.  The curved side of the Tritu Anu!  His brain cleared and courage returned with a rush.  The tiny orange flame danced merrily, leading him along the wall toward the door he knew was there.

Breathing easier now, his pace quickened as Dantor’s guiding light slithered along the gleaming wall.  Sometimes it was almost hidden from sight by the curvature of the welded plates and he was forced into a jog trot to keep it in view.

Grimly, tenderly, he clung to the delectable creature whose soft body drooped against him.

The door!  The selfsame passage through which they had escaped opened before him.  Grateful even for this doubtful protection, he crossed the threshold and trudged wearily along with his precious burden.  Blindly trusting in the miraculous powers of Dantor, he followed the orange beacon which now seemed to smile cheerfully as it lighted his way through the winding rock-walled tunnel.

Dazed and spent, he collapsed in the arms of the aged Rulan when he reached the end of the passage.