On finding that it was almost noon, he straightened to a sitting position. “I’m all right now,” he assured the student, motioning the latter to a seat on the ground beside him. His glance wavered about the scene, then came back to Hunter, whom he regarded intently before addressing him.

“Who you are, I don’t know,” he began, and as Hunter started to explain, he added, “and it doesn’t matter. You’ve had some education, haven’t you? Ah, medical student! That makes it easier—much easier.”

Hunter began to think that the man was still dizzy, delirious. “Hadn’t I better help you back to Leadanfoot?” he asked.

“There would not be time,” the other answered, strangely. “I was going to Leadanfoot myself, for—But there, you do not know. There is time to get back, though. You and I. But first you should hear—”

He caught the doubting, half-fearful expression on the young man’s face. “No, I’m not a madman,” he assured him, almost gently. “But I need help, badly. Need your help.”

“But help for what?” asked Hunter. “I think if you would just go back with me to the village—”

“No!” answered the other, decisively. There was a pause, in which the older man stared across the green silence of the valley with unseeing eyes. Suddenly he turned to the watching, puzzled student.

“I will put it this way,” he began. “Suppose someone was planning to kill every living person in the village yonder, to wipe it out utterly, would you try to prevent it?”

At Hunter’s wondering reply he continued, “Of course you would. Now go farther still. Suppose someone, something, was trying to kill every human being on Earth, to annihilate the world as we know it. Would you try to stop that, too?”

The younger man stared at him blankly. “Would you?” persisted the other.

“Why, yes—naturally,” answered the student, and the older man sighed.

“It is to prevent that that I need your help,” he said, quietly.

Before Hunter could comment on that startling statement the man rushed on. “I am going to tell you enough of the matter to help you understand what threatens. You will not think me a madman when you hear! We have little time here, an hour perhaps, before we must start back. But it is enough for me to tell—

“You will wish to know who I am. Marlowe is my name, and until a year ago I held a position on the staff of the Trent Museum, in London. It was there that I met Powell, some three years ago.