All about us stretched another of those vast halls in which on high burned the pale-gilt suns. Between its colossal columns streamed thousands of the Metal Folk; no longer hurriedly, but quietly, deliberately, sedately. We were within the City--even as Ventnor had commanded. CHAPTER XIX. THE CITY THAT WAS ALIVE Close beside us was one of the cyclopean columns. We crept to it; crouched at its base opposite the drift of the Metal People; strove, huddled there, to regain our shaken poise. Like bagatelles we felt in that tremendous place, the weird luminaries gleaming above like garlands of frozen suns, the enigmatic hosts of animate cubes and spheres and pyramids trooping past. They ranged in size from shapes yard-high to giants of thirty feet or more. They paid no heed to us, did not stop; streaming on, engrossed in whatever mysterious business was summoning them. And after a time their numbers lessened; thinned down to widely separate groups, to stragglers; then ceased. The hall was empty of them. As far as the eye could reach the columned spaces stretched. I was conscious once more of that unusual flow of energy through every vein and nerve. “Follow the crowd!” said Drake. “Do you feel just full of pep and ginger, by the way?” “I am aware of the most extraordinary vigor,” I answered. “Some weird joint,” he mused, looking about him. “Wonder if they have any windows? This whole place looked solid to me--what I could see of it. Wonder if we'll get up against it for air? These Things don't need it, that's sure. Wonder--” He broke off staring fascinatedly at the pillar behind us. “Look here, Goodwin!” There was a tremor in his voice. “What do you make of THIS?” I followed his pointing finger; looked at him inquiringly. “The eyes!” he said impatiently. “Don't you see them? The eyes in the column!” And now I saw them. The pillar was a pale metallic blue, in color a trifle darker than the Metal Folk. All within it were the myriads of tiny crystalline points that we had grown to know were the receptors of some strange sense of sight. But they did not sparkle as did those others; they were dull, lifeless. I touched the surface. It was smooth, cool--with none of that subtle, warm vitality that pulsed through all the Things with which I had come in contact. I shook my head, realizing as I did so what a shock the incredible possibility he had suggested had given me. “No,” I said. “There is a resemblance, yes. But there is no force about this--stuff; no life. Besides, such a thing is utterly incredible.” “They might be--dormant,” he suggested stubbornly. “Can you see any mark of their joining--if they ARE the cubes?”