His back was against one of the monoliths, his feet against the other. He climbed that way, ignoring the knives that slashed at his back. Then he was above the reach of their arms. The sun was full in his face. His shadow blocked the altar. His back was on stone, his feet were on stone. Two great pillars, rooted in the earth, and against them the strength of one man. * * * * * But that man was Gaar. Slowly his legs straightened, his shoulders went back. All the power that was in his mighty frame went into the thrust. It was a power that would not be denied. A pillar swayed, tottered, and was ripped out of the earth. Gaar felt himself falling and twisted catlike in the air to land on his feet. He whirled to meet the charge of the Druids. Cyngled's hands still traced the air but his power was gone. The Norsemen exploded into life again, their swords whirring a song of death. Only Cyngled did not lose his head. Defeated the Druids were, and defeated forever, but he could snatch some measure of victory from the defeat. He was at Marna's side when Gaar reached him. One great hand on Cyngled's throat, another at his waist. Gaar lifted him high and hurled him earthward. Cyngled twitched once and was still. The stone knife was in his hand but it would never be used again. The day of the Druids was over. Marna was smiling at Gaar as he cut the thongs that bound her. This time her lips came up to meet his. For Elgen and Asgar and the rest there was no treasure. But they had no complaints. It had been a good fight. For Gaar there was the greatest treasure of all. The hint of sorrow was out of Marna's eyes. The past was gone, and there was nothing here for her now. She was the daughter of a once great people. She would be the mother of a greater one. Her arm was linked with Gaar's as they took the first steps back toward the ship which would take them northward. THE END * * * * *