THE creature paused, and I could hear his garments rustling. In spite of the fact that I still thought I was dealing with a lunatic, I felt but little fear. Though the strange throaty quality of his voice gave the words an accent rather difficult to understand at times, his choice of English was excellent and stamped him as a man with a splendid education. Perhaps he was some professor of astronomy who had become insane from overstudy, and was living his life underground, clever enough to wrest a living by going at times to the outside world and obtaining food somehow. Long familiarity with his habitat undoubtedly explained his uncanny ability to get around in the dark, and sense my position. And his rock camouflage--that was wonderfully clever. Yes, I would rather deal with an intelligent man obsessed on one subject than with a rambling, mumbling idiot. Could there be any truth about others working with him? Hardly. Later he would probably point out an imaginary series of tunnels and what not, firmly believing everything was there. If I was diplomatic enough I might get him to show me the entrance through which he had brought me, and then make a break for freedom. . . . My face must have betrayed my growing interest and lack of fear, for Oomlag’s next remark indicated as much. “What do you say now, Stan-lee?” he asked me, his garments still rustling like strips of dry, hard leather rubbing against each other. “Have I told you enough to make you realize how very much you are in my power, and to make you wish to see the things I have mentioned; or do you wish to ask questions about things I have overlooked? Our Field General has communicated with me, wanting to know if you are sufficiently enlightened. If you care to proceed now, I shall give the signal and we may advance; but if you are still afraid for your safety, further parley is your privilege.” My mind was made up. Under the circumstances, there was only one thing I could do--go with the fellow, and find out once for all whether he was a lunatic or not. I could only hope I would not be hurled into some pit in the darkness. “Sure, Oomlag,” I said, striving to seem very enthusiastic, “bring on your big show! Tell your General I am ready, and that my services are at his disposal. I think I can stand about any shock now.” “You stood the darkness test better than most,” remarked Oomlag, dryly. “Usually we must speak long before we get near enough to touch. The fluid you drank was water with a mild drug to make your mind more active. Since you are ready, I will give the signal.” Again his garments rustled. About a minute passed, but nothing happened to break the impenetrable darkness or my keyed-up sense of suspense. “The Field General says to bring you in. Stand up, Stan-lee!” Oomlag ordered, at the same time grasping my right elbow with his lean, powerful fingers. As soon as I was on my feet, he faced me half way around and gave me a little shove.