Now, he was again in full possession of his faculties, and just as determined as ever to continue on to his destination. Twice he had fallen prey to the ingenious devices of the Ancients, and both times emerged unscathed. He was now convinced that the jungle could produce no obstacle that his cunning could not overcome. Thus decided, Farr took his bearings. Finding that his flight had brought him to that side of the glade nearest his goal, he had nothing to do but resume his march through the lush Phoebe plant-life. On two occasions during the next few hours he came across grim discoveries, discoveries that made him shudder in spite of his callousness--sun-bleached, grinning skeletons. He found the first one draped over a devil stone, picked free of carrion, mute testimony of the insidious rock's power. The other lay not far away in a clump of bushes. As Farr approached, the willowy branches of the shrubs whipped into sudden action, flicking gobs of black, gooey matter directly at the surprised spaceman. He dodged aside with a cry of dismay, barely averting contact with the stuff. Several of the viscid wads plopped against the bole of a tree and began eating furiously into the bark. Eyes bulging, Farr turned and fled, putting distance between himself and the deadly bushes. No wonder there hadn't been much left of that second heap of bones! The shrubs were living acid manufactories, remaining dormant until the approach of a victim, then to spring into life and bombard the prey with gobs of the fatal stuff. And those blanched remains back there--they had once been living men, like himself, in search of the legendary life secret. But unlike him, they had not been clever enough to elude the pitfalls of the jungle, and had died agonizing deaths, miles short of the goal. Farr was glad it was so, else the secret would not now be there for him to pluck from its pedestal and mold to his own use. * * * * * Many hours later, Farr emerged from the jungle to stand at last at the entrance to a desolate canyon. Aching in every muscle, battered, bruised and hardly able to stay on his feet, he felt a surge of new energy as he spied his objective, near the center of the valley. The temple was old, very old. Its walls were drab gray, as if with the grayness of age, and a great silence hung over it, unbroken by even the strident sounds of insect life. But in spite of its gloomy, tomb-like appearance, there was an air of magnificence about the temple, a faint aura of greatness once known, but long since gone. It was at once beautiful and foreboding, guardian of the heritage left by the Ancients to those with courage and intelligence enough to win it.