The Lost World MEGAPACK®. Lin Carter

smiled. All his suspicions of Dr. Damon’s motives vanished in a flash. He was simply a scientist-miser with a bag of gold, figuratively. He had heard before that, contrary to general belief, scientists were often childishly jealous of their individual discoveries, and loved the limelight as well as any other human soul.

      That took care of the scientist. But what of Harlan? And Pierre? Why had they acted strangely at times?

      Crane temporarily shelved the matter.

      “What accounts for the invisibility?” he queried.

      The bustle of arriving and unpacking, and the battle with the shadow-dragon, had kept them busy. But now the thought loomed—why should this isolated valley bear only invisible life-forms? It was unheard of in the annals of science.

      Dr. Damon’s tone became academic.

      “I’ve learned a little, and surmised a lot, in the six months I’ve been here. It traces down to a certain type of grass, which has the property of invisibility. The herbivorous creatures eat the grass—rabbits, deer, etc. The carnivores—bear, fox, weasel, lynx—eat them. Excrement and decaying bodies go back to the soil—and back to the vegetation, including trees, bushes, moss. It’s a closed cycle, mutually kept up, as it would be in any isolated valley.”

      “But what causes the invisibility itself?” It was Harlan who asked, leaning forward.

      Dr. Damon’s tone became vague, dreamy.

      “Perhaps it goes back a long way, in evolution. Evolution tries anything and everything. What does vegetation—to personify it—fear most? Being eaten. And being seen! If it were invisible, it might escape the crunching jaws of plant-eaters.

      “Thus ages ago evolution may have tried this offshoot species, protected by invisibility. It failed, because of the animal sense of smell. It vanished in evolution, as so many abortive life-forms have. Only here in this valley it survived, and stayed to the present day.”

      He waved a hand. “Sheer speculation, I admit. But however it happened, the invisible vegetation is here, and the resulting invisible animal life.”

      “But what is the exact agent of invisibility?” Harlan insisted.

      Crane didn’t like the tenseness in the chemist’s voice, nor the eager way he waited for an answer.

      “That’s what I want to find out,” Dr. Damon returned. “And where you come in. Between us, we may be able to find out. I suspect it’s a hormone, a gland-product. Transparent life-forms are not unknown, of course—jellyfish, many worms, tropical fish, etc.

      “A jellyfish is practically invisible in water. Thus it is hidden from its enemies. Its protoplasm is no different from ours, but contains gland-products that render it highly transparent.

      “The same thing, to a much more marvelous degree, has occurred with this valley’s life-forms. Their protoplasm is just as material as ours, but almost completely transparent to light.” Crane nodded. “Clear enough,” he punned.

      “But the dragons!” he asked in the next breath. “Why should there be invisible beasts never heard of before?”

      “Not dragons—dinosaurs,” smiled the biologist. “A species of them closely related to the extinct Tyrannosaurus Rex, fiercest of them all. The dinosaurs died out, millions of years ago, in competition with rising mammalian life. But this invisible species had just enough edge to survive, though it has narrowed down to this lone valley.”

      Dr. Damon’s voice lowered almost in awe.

      “What we’ve stumbled on, in this protected valley, is the last vestige of one of nature’s great experiments—invisibility. It’s like finding live saber-toothed tigers, or mastodons, or submen.”

      They all felt it—an air of having been projected into a strange and ancient vault of Earth’s long past. Empires of life had risen and fallen, like empires of man. Perhaps the Unseen Life had once lorded it over Earth, only to give way before keener-nosed, sharper-eyed species.

      It was a chapter of evolution that had been totally unsuspected. The dead forms of the Unseen had all fossilized into opaque stone, leaving no slightest clue to their one-time invisibility in life.

      Harlan broke the silence.

      “You think, then, that you and I may be able to isolate this invisibility hormone?”

      “Not here,” Dr. Damon demurred. “It would take years of work, in a well-equipped laboratory. The best we can do is collect samples of blood from these creatures and bring them back to civilization for that laborious research. The blood will contain the hormone. That’s our job, Harlan.”

      The scientist rose. “Let’s get a good night’s sleep. Tomorrow we’re going out hunting—for invisible game!”

      “You kill?”

      Crane started. It was a surprise to hear the taciturn Pierre speak up of his own volition. The French-Canadian’s expression was again strange—almost protesting.

      “Yes, why not, Pierre?” Dr. Damon said, surprised.

      “Hard job,” Pierre grunted, turning away.

      But Crane felt he hadn’t said what he meant. What went on in the guide’s secretive mind? And secondly, why was Harlan so keen on the invisibility angle itself?

      When he went to bed, Crane asked himself another startling question. He had counted the grenades. There were four cases, containing six each, according to the bill of lading.

      Two were missing!

      Who had flung the second grenade?

      CHAPTER V

      The Man in the Mists

      The hunt the next day proved a strange one.

      “I know something of the layout,” Dr. Damon asserted. “Pierre and I explored the valley quite a bit. I even made a map.”

      He displayed it before they started. The valley was roughly five miles long and a mile wide. It was densely wooded in the center, but more thinly at the ends where sunlight was often excluded. The invisible vegetation needed life-giving rays the same as any normal growths, absorbing nourishment through a colorless form of chlorophyll in their transparent leaves.

      “Deer browse and sleep in the central section,” the biologist resumed. “We’re after them.”

      “Where do the dragons hang out?” Crane wanted to know more practically. “Anywhere,” Dr. Damon said briefly. “I’m going along,” Jondra declared firmly. “I won’t stay at camp and bite my nails.”

      The scientist shrugged, without an argument. “Well, we have the grenades,” he said.

      “I’m going along too,” Crane stated.

      “But the plane—”

      “Will keep,” Crane finished shortly. “Besides, I’m a good shot.”

      The scientist seemed pleased. “We can use another man with a rifle. Let’s go.”

      Pierre leading, they trekked single file toward the center of the valley, brushing past unseen vegetation.

      Crane looked around. Sheer, steep cliffs on all sides. They had kept the outside world out, and the things within from escaping. But the average temperature, it occurred to Crane suddenly, was hardly Arctic. In two days, none of them had been forced to wear more than mackinaw jackets.

      “There are steam springs in the central area,” Dr. Damon explained. “This valley was formed, ages ago, by the sinking of land into a volcanic bed. The underlying heat works up through the soil, keeping the valley warm.

      “No seeds flying up out of the valley can take root in the cold, snow-covered regions above. Thus the invisible vegetation has been confined.”

      They saw the steam springs soon after,