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Trembling all over, Madden gained the barrel and stepped through a niche in its side. He stared through the brilliant, hot colors, but no rushing horde of monsters met his eyes.

“Which way?” he asked breathlessly.

Caradoc looked around at him in uncomprehending misery. There was just room for the two in the barrel. Smith seemed to put his mind to Madden's question with an effort.

“Which—what did you say?”

“Which way?”

“What do you mean?”

“The dragons, man, the dragons!”

“Dragons—right here!” Smith beat his broad chest, then waved his long arms about. “Everywhere—don't you smell it?”

The idea of smelling dragons confused the American. “Smell what?”