"Verily, our plight is grave indeed. That braggart dog threatened to march on Heliopolis in the first division of morning, and,"--Hero John's lips compressed into a hopeless, taut expression--"our reinforcing phalanxes can never arrive in time to defend Cierum at that hour. Should the defense fail, as it must--since they outnumber us three to one for the nonce--it would cost us many thousands of men to stay the blood-hungry hordes of Jereboam once freed on the great plain." Like a star shell bursting on a cloudy night came the inception of an idea. "Here," cried Nelson, "I've an idea! Maybe I can fix a stall until the rest of your boys do a General Phil Sheridan and get here." Hero John's blue eyes widened uncomprehendingly. "What?" he demanded. "What dost thou propose?" * * * * * Nelson's hand crept to his head, for the unaccustomed weight and heat of the helmet made it itch. "You say these bright boys from over the border want to chow six more girls? Am I right?" "Yea, oh Friend Nelson, they demand the victims to-morrow morn, else they advance." "All right." Nelson was thinking fast now, a dreadful vision of Richard Alden stretched for sacrifice on the brass altar of Beelzebub ever floating before his aching eyes. "Tell those Semites that they can have those six girls _if_ they can take them away from me." A puzzled frown creased the younger Hero's brow and he tugged thoughtfully at his scant yellow beard. "Prithee pardon me, but I do not comprehend." "All right, get this now! Tell the Jarmuthians that they can send six of their biggest and best scrappers, one for each girl. If they can take any one of those girls away from me, they take them all--taking me as well--and we'll all get the works in Jezreel together. But, on the other hand, if I kill their six champions, then Alden is returned unharmed, the six girls come home and the six other girls come back too--and there'll be no more hostages. I don't think they'll agree to or even consider surrendering Your Princess, Altara. I'm sorry I can't accomplish that, too. But if I can stop this annual tribute, it won't be so bad, will it?" * * * * * Rounder and rounder grew the Atlantean's eyes, and he gaped like a school boy in a side show. "What sayest thou? Thou alone to overcome six of their best warriors? Nay, but this is folly! Moonshine! What knowest thou of their weapons?" "Nothing," admitted Nelson, "but I do know Brother Winchester here." He patted the smooth stock. "He's mighty persuasive, properly handled." "But they are armored! They have the fungus bombs, the light retortii and the javelin!" "Righto!" agreed Nelson a trifle carelessly, "but you don't know what this old boy can do when he's put to it. Well?" "By Saturn!" An uncertain ring crept into the Atlantean Prince's voice. "A moment, while I address His Splendor."