“You won’t think so for long!” warned Stranahan, with all the fury of conviction. “The Lord strike my heart from my breast if I ever saw a deader place--except maybe my own home town on Sunday afternoons!” Following this outburst, Stranahan recounted his recent experiences, which were not altogether different from our own. Like us, he and Ripley had reached the city following an ambling excursion among the outlying colonnades and temples; but unlike us, they had not been so unfortunate as to be trapped in one of the buildings. In fact, they had suffered a different misfortune entirely. Upon entering the city, they had been confronted by several of the natives; and, surmising that these strange beings were hostilely disposed, the terrified Stranahan had whipped out his revolver and fired toward the crowd. So far as was known, no one had been injured, but all had been badly frightened by the report; and for a while, the two seamen had had the freedom of the town. They were ultimately stopped, however, by a band of determined-looking natives. Though apparently unarmed, and though they used no violence, these men overpowered the intruders in some inexplicable way. Not only were Stranahan and Ripley deprived of their pistols, but they were rendered docile as children, and were conducted, as we had been, to the place of amber and sapphire, where a hundred pale-robed individuals debated and passed on their fate. Next they were brought to their present dwelling, where they were clothed and fed, and where they were reunited with Stangale and Howlett, who had preceded them to the city. They had now been living here for several days, and during that time had been treated with unexpected civility and kindness and even allowed to roam at will through the city; but whenever they had approached the boundaries of the town, they had encountered a band of citizens who, by shouts and gestures and a mysterious but irresistible power of suggestion, had given them to understand that they were not to leave.