n the gray darkness the curved fangs of a saber-toothed tiger gleamed white and ghostly. The man-figure that stood half crouched in the mouth of the cave involuntarily shivered.
Rawson learns to his cost that the life-spark of a fabled race glows in the black heart of a dead, Western volcano.
"Gwanga!" he said. "He goes, too!"
But the man did not move more than to shift a club to his right hand. Heavy, that club, and knotted and with a head of...
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