Quickly he found the mark he sought, and, pressing upon it with all his strength, had the satisfaction of seeing the barrier above swing outward. Through the aperture thus formed he passed, leaving the door ajar behind him. Three steps he took, then a gasp of amazement escaped him. _He was standing within the temple!_ His surprise over, he hurried to the doorway and out on to the terrace. “They must have returned long before this,” he muttered, wondering that he heard nothing of his comrades. An instant later he pulled up short, a terrible dread gripping at his heart, as he noted a number of silent forms huddled in a ghastly heap at the head of the steps. CHAPTER XXVIII. IN THE WOLF-MEN’S HAUNTS. SEYMOUR’S dread was not lessened by the discovery that the bodies were those of wolf-men. Where were his friends? Evidently they had returned, the corpses bore witness to that, for upon each and all the mark of Chenobi’s axe was plainly visible. He shouted, but no answering hail broke the stillness of the underworld city. Hurriedly he descended the steps and tried the door of the kennel chamber. It was locked, and from within came the howling of the hounds. With half a dozen lusty blows Seymour shattered the lock, then strode through the doorway. Unloosing the hounds he ordered them outside, himself following a moment later, leading Muswani. “The wolf-men must have carried them off,” he muttered, “but I’ll track the brutes down.” He was about to mount, when a thought came to him. If his friends were alive, and he was able to effect their rescue, they would be entirely defenceless unless he took them weapons. With him to think was to act, and he rapidly made his way back to the armoury. Here, selecting half a dozen great double-edged swords, he strapped them together with a girdle taken from a mail suit; then, slipping a serviceable dagger into his own belt, he returned to the square. Within three minutes he was galloping through the gloomy streets, the mighty elk obeying every touch as it did Chenobi’s; seeming to know by some subtle instinct that its master’s fate hung upon its speed. And in front, hot upon the trail of the wolfish kidnappers, bounded the great hounds. At full speed they swept forward, having to round the end of the great fire gulf as they went; then on around the base of the hills within whose wild valleys Seymour and his friends had so nearly met their deaths. As he rode on the baronet wondered how far ahead of him the savages were. He knew that he had wandered for many hours in the vaults beneath the city, but for how long he had no means of telling. One fact was borne in upon him as he settled down to his ride--that he was ravenously hungry, and he was glad to note a number of edible fungi growing beside the track.