I The Thing on the Moon Path II "Dead! All Dead!" III The Moon Rock IV The First Vanishings V Into the Moon Pool VI "The Shining Devil Took Them!" VII Larry O'Keefe VIII Olaf's Story IX A Lost Page of Earth X The Moon Pool XI The Flame-Tipped Shadows XII The End of the Journey XIII Yolara, Priestess of the Shining One XIV The Justice of Lora XV The Angry, Whispering Globe XVI Yolara of Muria vs. the O'Keefe XVII The Leprechaun XVIII The Amphitheatre of Jet XIX The Madness of Olaf XX The Tempting of Larry XXI Larry's Defiance XXII The Casting of the Shadow XXIII Dragon Worm and Moss Death XXIV The Crimson Sea XXV The Three Silent Ones XXVI The Wooing of Lakla XXVII The Coming of Yolara XXVIII In the Lair of the Dweller XXIX The Shaping of the Shining One XXX The Building of the Moon Pool XXXI Larry and the Frog-Men XXXII "Your Love; Your Lives; Your Souls!" XXXIII The Meeting of Titans XXXIV The Coming of the Shining One XXXV "Larry--Farewell!" CHAPTER I The Thing on the Moon Path For two months I had been on the d'Entrecasteaux Islands gathering data for the concluding chapters of my book upon the flora of the volcanic islands of the South Pacific. The day before I had reached Port Moresby and had seen my specimens safely stored on board the Southern Queen. As I sat on the upper deck I thought, with homesick mind, of the long leagues between me and Melbourne, and the longer ones between Melbourne and New York. It was one of Papua's yellow mornings when she shows herself in her sombrest, most baleful mood. The sky was smouldering ochre. Over the island brooded a spirit sullen, alien, implacable, filled with the threat of latent, malefic forces waiting to be unleashed. It seemed an emanation out of the untamed, sinister heart of Papua herself--sinister even when she smiles. And now and then, on the wind, came a breath from virgin jungles, laden with unfamiliar odours, mysterious and menacing. It is on such mornings that Papua whispers to you of her immemorial ancientness and of her power. And, as every white man must, I fought against her spell. While I struggled I saw a tall figure striding down the pier; a Kapa-Kapa boy followed swinging a new valise. There was something familiar about the tall man. As he reached the gangplank he looked up straight into my eyes, stared for a moment, then waved his hand. And now I knew him. It was Dr. David Throckmartin--"Throck" he was to me always, one of my oldest friends and, as well, a mind of the first water whose power and achievements were for me a constant inspiration as they were, I know, for scores other.