"It can't be far to the surface," he told them. "I'm going to burn a tunnel upward at a steep angle. Keep a good watch in both directions." Just then Art, his eye glued to the opening, saw that something was amiss below. The Voornizar were running about excitedly. Faintly he heard their discordant shouting, and the crackle of heat rays. Then he saw, skimming and swerving above the rows of giant ships, a familiar sight! Klalmar-lan's own spaceship, in which they had originally embarked from Earth! Wildly, it plunged toward Art, then swung erratically away and headed in a steep climb for the top of the dome. Several small patrol fliers appeared, racing in pursuit. Searchlights lanced through the blackness, illuminating the heretofore invisible ceiling, which was apparently just what the pilot of Klalmar-lan's ship hoped for. A passing searchlight beam revealed for an instant a round, jagged hole in the center of the room; the little rocket ship shot through it like an escaping minnow. The hole had evidently been newly made by the Voornizar for the passage of their smaller and more maneuverable craft, a half dozen of which now flashed through in pursuit. Art turned and related what he had seen. * * * * * "That was Theller, or I'm not a broken down space eater," growled Denny, "Here, let me spell you on that excavation work a while, Klalmar-lan." Klalmar-lan had a tough job--it was getting more difficult as the hole progressed. Hot gobbets of molten lava came splashing down from time to time, preventing him from entering the hole and following up his work. Acrid, choking fumes began to fill the tunnel, but Klalmar-lan refused to let Denny or Art take over, on account of their burned hands. It was two hours before daylight began to show, fifty feet above. "Now, while those rocks are cooling sufficiently for us to crawl out, I'll show you what my plan is," said Klalmar-lan. "Has anyone a chrono?" Elene slipped one from her wrist, handed it to him. Quickly, he slipped it out of its case, began removing various parts. He attached it to the trigger ring of his pistol, made a delicate adjustment. Then he set the gun to full disintegrator. He rigged it so that the muzzle pointed through the peep-hole, aimed at the ships below. "We've got six hours to get out of here and put plenty of miles between us and this place," he informed them. Hurriedly they scrambled up the chimney he had made. The rock had cooled rapidly, as it was pouring rain above, and water ran down in little rivulets. The four of them were drenched by the time they reached the surface. The rain was beating down in such a torrent that they could hardly get their breath. It was warm, like a tepid shower. It was difficult to see more than a few feet, but it was evident that they were in thick jungle.