"Quick!" he cried again. "The handmaiden has passed!"
At the right of the Portal ran a low wall of shattered rock. Over this
we raced like rabbits. Hidden behind it was a narrow path. Crouching,
Rador in the lead, we sped along it; three hundred, four hundred yards
we raced--and the path ended in a _cul de sac_! To our ears was borne
a louder shouting.
The first of the pursuing shells had swept over the lip of the great
bowl, poised for a moment as we had and then began a cautious descent.
Within it, scanning the slopes, I saw Lugur.
"A little closer and I'll get him!" whispered Larry viciously. He
raised his pistol.
His hand was caught in a mighty grip; Rador, eyes blazing, stood
beside him.
"No!" rasped the green dwarf. He heaved a shoulder against one of the
boulders that formed the pocket. It rocked aside, revealing a slit.
"In!" ordered he, straining against the weight of the stone. O'Keefe
slipped through. Olaf at his back, I following. With a lightning leap
the dwarf was beside me, the huge rock missing him by a hair breadth
as it swung into place!
We were in Cimmerian darkness.
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