The radiance was marching--_marching_--down the colossal bridge. It moved swiftly, in some unthinkable way _intelligently_. It swathed the _Akka_, and closer, ever closer it swept toward the approach upon which Yolara's men had now gained foothold. From their ranks came flash after flash of the green ray--aimed at the abode! But as the light sped and struck the opalescence it was blotted out! The shimmering mists seemed to enfold, to dissipate it. Lakla drew a deep breath. "The Silent Ones forgive me for doubting them," she whispered; and again hope blossomed on her face even as it did on Larry's. The frog-men were gaining. Clothed in the armour of that mist, they pressed back from the bridge-head the invaders. There was another prodigious movement at the ends of the crescent, and racing up, pressing against the dwarfs, came other legions of Nak's warriors. And re-enforcing those out on the prodigious arch, the frog-men stationed in the gardens below us poured back to the castle and out through the open Portal. "They're licked!" shouted Larry. "They're--" So quickly I could not follow the movement his automatic leaped to his hand--spoke, once and again and again. Rador leaped to the head of the little path, sword in hand; Olaf, shouting and whirling his mace, followed. I strove to get my own gun quickly. For up that path were running twoscore of Lugur's men, while from below Lugur's own voice roared. "Quick! Slay not the handmaiden or her lover! Carry them down. Quick! But slay the others!" The handmaiden raced toward Larry, stopped, whistled shrilly--again and again. Larry's pistol was empty, but as the dwarfs rushed upon him I dropped two of them with mine. It jammed--I could not use it; I sprang to his side. Rador was down, struggling in a heap of Lugur's men. Olaf, a Viking of old, was whirling his great hammer, and striking, striking through armour, flesh, and bone. Larry was down, Lakla flew to him. But the Norseman, now streaming blood from a dozen wounds, caught a glimpse of her coming, turned, thrust out a mighty hand, sent her reeling back, and then with his hammer cracked the skulls of those trying to drag the O'Keefe down the path. A cry from Lakla--the dwarfs had seized her, had lifted her despite her struggles, were carrying her away. One I dropped with the butt of my useless pistol, and then went down myself under the rush of another. Through the clamour I heard a booming of the _Akka_, closer, closer; then through it the bellow of Lugur. I made a mighty effort, swung a hand up, and sunk my fingers in the throat of the soldier striving to kill me. Writhing over him, my fingers touched a poniard; I thrust it deep, staggered to my feet.