esting than it would be without. Now, watching these newcomers to this part of the caverns, he realized that the character signs—the variant-natured "ne" charge which each physical body exerts upon each other physical body—were either missing from their bodies, or so vague as hardly to register mentally even with the mighty augmentation of the ancient power tubes. Instead there was present a repellance ("ne" is an attraction) which acted in an exactly opposite manner to "ne." Instead of liking each other, admiring or respecting their most capable and best looking members, they hated each other, and this hatred was in direct proportion to their ability and appearance.
Lane realized that here was revealed the reason for their characters being cruel and evil; the reason for their constant and savage warring.
Saba glanced at him as he observed this startling difference, which was so obvious over the telaug beams with which they were observing the enemy.
"The Elder word for that is "de," she told him. "It makes the difference between human and destructive beast."
As Lane swung his telaug beam across the ray-mutilated stalwarts waiting in the war-ray chambers, he observed that this "de" was even more strongly present among them. He guessed its presence was due to the effects of the destructive rays created by the great ray-cannon, effects which destroyed the "ne" generative inner life of the cells leaving an animal whose life could hardly be a life thereafter, since even the love he bore a woman turned to hate in his breast. He observed that only habits of discipline kept these great, dull-eyed men from throwing themselves upon each other in a struggle to the death. An explanation of the real cause of men's terrible and constantly recurring wars was here presented to Lane's eyes. But Lane saw no solution to it at first glance, other than shielding all men from such natural occurring rays by some kind of dielectric sheathing for their cities which would keep out such "de" generating rays.
BUT Lane did not have much time for speculative thought, for Eemeeshee was swiftly preparing for action. The floating hemi-spheres of smaller ray-cannon cars were lining up, one behind the other, under swiftly darting telaug beams bearing his thought to each driver.
Lane could not help dreading the first clash for he realized that their attack upon this huge citadel with their small rays was apparently foolhardy, and that none of them but Eemeeshee and possibly Saba really could evaluate the situation in military terms.
Somehow Lane could not feel a great deal of confidence in Eemeeshee after old Secumne's analysis of him. Would his resurgence of interest in life remain or would he suddenly sink again into the apathy and dream-making with which he had wasted so many years—how many centuries, Lane wondered?
Saba hissed in almost inaudible tones.
"Look at those 'courageous' animals who could fight their way through a group of unarmed children, themselves unseen, and with these terrible weapons from a distance wipe out the young humans—and often have. Are they not wonderful, agh?"
Lane looked over her ray screen, and sent his own beam along its invisible direction sensing its path with his telaug ear. Soon he heard and saw the leaders of this invasion.
"Mrs. Da Sylva, may I get a drink?"
A young and pretty slave girl stood in her worn rags near the door, evidently she could not leave her position except by permission.
The woman's answer, "Later!" told Lane enough; the girl had to remain standing there thirsty. He knew automatically she would not get her drink till her duty period ended. He swung his ray a trifle to take in this Da Sylva.
About her incredibly huge waist strained a glittering girdle of fine metal work. In the girdle was caught many shining loops of dark transparent satin that Lane realized had never been woven by modern hands or machines; it was too beautiful material. Through the beautiful stuff her heavy thighs, the great hips, gleamed grossly.
The barrel of her body projected starkly nude above the girdle, burly and strong as a man, and two strips of gleaming black mesh broadened over her terrific breasts—
For a picture of what the underworld has always been to surface men, read "The Silver Nail" by Carmen Sylva (the Queen of Roumania) and Alma Strettell. There are several pertinent tales in her important book—"Legends from River And Mountain."
