about that little box as if our lives depended upon the message it
had for us.

Downes interrupted the clicking with his sending-key. The noise
of the receiver stopped instantly.

"Ask who it is, Downes," I directed.

He did so, and while we awaited the Englishman's translation of
the reply, I doubt if either Nestor or I breathed.

"He says he's David Innes," said Downes. "He wants to know who we
are."

"Tell him," said I; "and that we want to know how he is--and all
that has befallen him since I last saw him."

For two months I talked with David Innes almost every day, and
as Downes translated, either Nestor or I took notes. From these,
arranged in chronological order, I have set down the following
account of the further adventures of David Innes at the earth's
core, practically in his own words.




CHAPTER I

LOST ON PELLUCIDAR