"Lost it, did you?" shouted Sarak. "Well, I have not lost my club, smooth-faced one! Feel its anger, now, and remember, when you feel like sleeping in the forest instead of working." His wide mouth was distorted, baring ugly black snags of teeth as he advanced. The thick cudgel, weighted with a stone, came up over his head. For a moment Rog considered springing in to battle. His mind weighed his chances. Against Sarak, perhaps, he might have had a chance of coming out alive, but the tribe was incensed against him now. Luk-no would lead them against him should he vanquish the bloodthirsty Old Man. Then blows were raining down upon his head and back. As best he could, he warded them off with his club, but the blood sprang from half a dozen wounds in the first few seconds. He went to his knees, dazed and bleeding. Sarak shouted and screamed and danced, in savage enjoyment of his tribal right to punish, justifiably or not. His thick lips gleamed with saliva. And Rog bit his lip against the pain and bore it. He ground down the hate welling up within his breast, because he must come out of this alive. Whatever it cost him, he must endure it, or the secret of the museum might die with Johann Adam. A bitter laugh was torn from his lips at the thought that his only motive in living was to help the tribe! The wall of leering faces swam before his vision. The ruler's countenance loomed before them all, twisted with savagery. His breathing was stertorous, rasping through clenched teeth. At last Rog could stand no more. The club fell from his hands and he sprawled on his face in the cavern. * * * * * Sometime during the night he awoke. His body was a mass of bruises and cuts. It gave him excruciating agony to force his head from the floor, but he did so, and cast a slow glance about him. Then he saw what he wanted. Painfully he inched himself to Lo's side and aroused her, placing his hand quickly over her mouth to stifle the outcry. "It's me," he whispered. "Rog. Listen to me, Lo. I want you to go away with me!" Instantly the girl was wide awake. "Go away!" she echoed. He nodded. "Not for good. Just for a few moons. Then we will come back, and I will become the Old Man!" Now Lo was trembling with excitement. Before she could question him, he bent nearer and whispered, "Pay attention to what I say, but don't ask questions. We are going back into the forest, to a great, shining stone I found. And we must go tomorrow, as soon as the tribe is not noticing us." Then, hurriedly, he told her of the sphere. She was puzzled, almost inclined to doubt him, but the energy and sincerity of his manner told her he was not lying. A groan from one of the sleepers sent him scuttling back to his place, to lie there sleepless until the sun came up and shot long, golden lances into the cave.