As cattle are driven, von Horn drove the miserable
creatures toward the door of the workshop. At the
threshold of the dark interior the frightened things
halted fearfully, and then as von Horn urged them on
from behind with his cruel whip they milled as cattle
at the entrance to a strange corral.

Again and again he urged them for the door, but each
time they turned away, and to escape the whip beat and
tore at the wall of the palisade in a vain effort to
batter it from their pathway. Their roars and shrieks
were almost deafening as von Horn, losing what little
remained of his scant self-control, dashed among them
laying to right and left with the stern whip and the
butt of his heavy revolver.

Most of the monsters scattered and turned back into the
center of the enclosure, but three of them were forced
through the doorway into the workshop, from the
darkness of which they saw the patch of moonlight
through the open door upon the opposite side. Toward
this they scurried as von Horn turned back into the
court of mystery for the others.

Three more herculean efforts he made before he beat the
last of the creatures through the outer doorway of the
workshop into the north campong.


Among the age old arts of the celestials none is more