Most of the men were garbed as had been those of the fademe's crew and also the crowd at the harbor, in loose, belted tunics and hose, but finer in texture and more showy in coloring than those of the commoner sort. Some of the old men wore flowing gowns. The women and children were clad in short kirtles. Everywhere was a riot of color. The garments of the people were gay with many tints and hues. The grounds were flecked with flowers. The dwellings, all of which were built of stone, made their brave show of colors, too. The quarries from which the masonry was cut yielded white and black and red stone, and in their construction work the builders had varied them pleasingly. From the tunnel's mouth at the base of the ancient hill, the long, black road sloped up gradually. Far ahead loomed the walls and domes of a great city. Oleric rose in his stirrups and pointed to where they were outlined against the sky. "Yonder lies Adlaz, chief city of the Children of Ad," he cried. Midway in their course to the city, the shouting drivers pulled their horses suddenly to one side of the road, and the riders of the escort scattered to right and left to leave a clear passage. From far up the wonderful street sounded the clash and clatter of pounding hoofs in desperate haste. But no horse it was that galloped so madly from Adlaz town to the sea, but a giant, bronze-coated bull. On he came, head down and tail aloft, his hoofs striking fire from the smooth, hard rock of the roadway. At intervals he gave voice to a deep-throated bellow. He was still three hundred yards from the car when Rose Emer screamed out in horror. "Ah, the child! Save the child!" she cried. From one of the mansions farther up the street, a child had strayed, a baby girl, a fragile, black-haired little thing, not more than five years old. Shrieking with laughter, she had eluded her mother and run out through the gateway to the center of the road. Half-way across the pavement, she slipped and fell. Down the street on thundering hoofs came the great bronze death. Upsetting one of the drivers in his haste, Polaris leaped down over the wheel of the car. Scarcely had his feet touched the roadway, when Minos, the Sardanian, was down behind him. Snatching a short spear from the hand of one of the steel riders, the son of the snows bounded up the street to meet the bull, going at a speed which few living things could have equaled. Over his shoulder he called to Minos: "Care for the child, Minos; leave the beast to me." Just beyond where the baby girl lay, he met the furious mass of charging flesh. The little red eyes of the oncoming monster saw the man in its path, and for an instant the bull seemed to halt in its stride, and its hoofs slid on the smooth pavement. Then it lowered its head still farther and charged on with a roar.