it, a weird and fairy arch made up of alternate cube
and angle. The shape at my feet disintegrated; resolved itself
into units that raced over to the beckoning span.

At the hither side of the crack they clicked into place,
even as had the others. Before me now was a bridge complete
except for the one arc near the middle where an
angled gap marred it.

I felt the little object I held pulse within my hand,
striving to escape. I dropped it. The tiny shape swept to
the bridge, ascended it--dropped into the gap.

The arch was complete--hanging in one flying span over
the depths!

Upon it, over it, as though they had but awaited this
completion, rolled the six globes. And as they dropped to
the farther side the end of the bridge nearest me raised
itself in air, curved itself like a scorpion's tail, drew itself
into a closer circled arc, and dropped upon the floor beyond.

Again the sibilant rustling--and cubes and pyramids and
spheres were gone.

Nerves tingling slowly back to life, mazed in absolute
bewilderment, my gaze sought Drake. He was sitting up,
feebly, his head supported by Ruth's hands.

"Goodwin!" he whispered. "What--what were they?"