because I know that if you go there the Masters will slay you all, as befits men who dare rebel against their sacred rule."
Before Ethan could speak again, the Luunian fell back, dead. The six comrades got to their feet.
"It shore amazes me," drawled Hank Martin, "that these white men would let them red devils rule them. You heard him—even when he was passin' in his checks, he claimed it was right and fittin' for the Masters to rule."
"The Masters must be wizards," said John Crewe gloomily. "Aye, demons who by compact with Satan have somehow enslaved the races of man."
"Monsters, devils or what-not, I'm going to Luun after them!" Ethan exclaimed passionately. "Chiri and her father are not going to be their slaves. You others can come or not, as you see fit."
"If any of you is not willing to come," roared Pedro Lopez, his mustachios twitching and his florid face menacing, "he'll measure swords with me, here and now."
"Aw, cool off, Pedro," drawled the trapper calmly. "We're all with Drew, and he knows it."
"Aye," rumbled Swain, a glitter in his eye. "There should be fighting in plenty in such a city."
"Hear how the heathen lusts for blood," John Crewe said with stern disapproval, glowering at Swain.
"He's wrong — we're not going to try to fight our way into Luun," Ethan said swiftly. "That would be hopeless. We'll have to enter by stealth, under cover of darkness, and seek out Chiri and her father and spirit them away."
"Then why not don the armor of these dead men?" cried Ptah, pointing to the slain Luunians. "In such guise, we could far more easily penetrate Luun undetected."
Although Ethan was chafing at the delay, he saw the force of the suggestion.
"We'll do it," he said. "Quick, men!"
John Crewe frowned disapprovingly at the armor that Ptah was already stripping from the slain men.
"Is a Christian man to wear such pagan attire as that?" he demanded.
"What matters our dress, so long as we carry our good swords?" Pedro Lopez retorted. "When we cavaliers of Spain followed Don Hernando up into Mexico, we were glad at times to wear even the cotton armor of the Aztecs."
In a few minutes, all stood attired in the metal armor of the dead Luunians, though Swain's great limbs were badly cramped by it, and Hank Martin looked uncomfortable.
"Now for horses!" Ethan exclaimed. "These Luunians must have left their mounts somewhere near by. Scatter and search for them."
In fact, a short search discovered a dozen horses tethered near by in the dusky shade of the giant toadstool forest. The steeds bore rude, high leather saddles. And they reared and snorted as the six comrades mounted.
"Now for Luun!" Ethan cried. "Come on!"
He led the way as the little troop galloped westward through the looming, grotesque toadstools.
The sun was setting ahead, casting a broken red blaze through the forest into their faces. The hooves of the running horses made no sound on the soft, moss-like turf.
The marvel of it for a moment took Ethan's mind. He and five comrades
