"I will start," he said, after a little pause, "from when I
met Richard Drake on the field of blue poppies that are
like a great prayer-rug at the gray feet of the nameless
mountain."

The sun sank, the shadows fell, the lights of the city
sparkled out, for hours New York roared about me unheeded
while I listened to the tale of that utterly weird,
stupendous drama of an unknown life, of unknown creatures,
unknown forces, and of unconquerable human heroism
played among the hidden gorges of unknown Asia.

It was dawn when I left him for my own home. Nor was
it for many hours after that I laid his then incomplete manuscript
down and sought sleep--and found a troubled sleep.

A. MERRITT




CHAPTER I

VALLEY OF THE
BLUE POPPIES

In this great crucible of life we call the world--in the
vaster one we call the universe--the mysteries lie close
packed, uncountable as grains of sand on ocean's shores.