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Volume 3970

Part Nine
Woodrow Edgar Nichols, Jr.
(Dedicated to George McWhorter)

(Chapter Two)
We left our Unidentified Narrator back on deck of the Toreador, listening in vain after hearing the machine-gun on Billings’ water plane fire several times on the other side of the barrier cliffs that guard the mysterious island of Caprona and its inner crater world of Caspak.

From now on, beginning in Chapter 2, we will be at the hands of the last first person narrator in the Caspakian Trilogy, which, of course, is Tom Billings.

As you recall, Billings went from promising cow-puncher on one of Tyler, Sr.’s many ranches, and so impressed Bowen Sr. that he put young Tom through Stanford with his son. In fact, Tom and Bowen Jr. were frat buddies and Bowen would share everything he had learned in his paleontology classes with Tom. You also will recall ERB’s experimental first person narrator structure up to this point:

I: The Land That Time Forgot:
   A: Bowen Tyler, Jr.’s Journal (first paragraph);
   B: Unidentified Narrator (U.N.: the finder of the journal);
   C: Bowen Tyler, Jr’s Journal (continued from first paragraph).;
         i: Bradley’s Report (inserted in Bowen’s Journal);
   D: Bowen Tyler, Jr.’s Journal (to final entry);
II: The People That Time Forgot:
   E: U.N (Chapter 1);
   F: Tom Billings (Chapter 2 to conclusion.)
I’m pretty sure this is correct and I apologize for mislettering Bowen’s first person narrations in past articles. So, what we have here is four first person narrators in seven different sections. At the conclusion of The People That Time Forgot, at the end of Billings’ narration, ERB concludes his experiment. The last book of the Trilogy, as previously mentioned, is written in the third person from Bradley’s point of view. I now have a workable theory of why ERB
chose to write the last book in the Trilogy in the third person. All you have to do is go back and read Bradley’s report that Bowen recorded in his journal.

His expedition was gone for four days yet he told the entire story in three succinct paragraphs. This simply was no good for the “paid by the word” pulp fiction writer of 1917. As it is, Out of Time’s Abyss is five chapters long. It likely only would have been one chapter if Bradley had narrated it. Or maybe ERB was just tired of the first person format, as made clear by the blunt transition between Chapter 1 and 2 of The People That Time Forgot. To demonstrate this, I will write the last sentence of Chapter 1 narrated by our U.N., after which I will write the first sentence of Chapter 2 narrated by Billings. You decide if the transition is blunt or not:

“We have had no sign nor signal from Tom Billings since. 
“I’ll never forget my first impression of Caspak, as I circled in, high over the surrounding cliffs.” (PTF/1-2.)
Well, it makes you do a double take at least. Anyway, Billings is our faithful narrator for the rest of this book. Enjoy.
F: Tom Billings:
As I mentioned the last time, Billings is everything that ERB admired in a man, but he has some almost fatal character flaws. The first is the almost careless attitude about the trip to rescue Bowen in the first place. They had to sail the Toreador to Caprona under war conditions. 

America was clearly at war with Germany by then. The yacht could have easily been sunk by a German U-boat, since von Shoenvorts had sunk plenty in the same waters after he recaptured his boat from the Brits.

However, the rescue mission appears to have been planned with no thought of this. Their only heavy armament appears to be the machine-gun mounted on the front of the sea plane, but that was in a box somewhere in the hold. The next character flaw of Billings will soon become apparent:

“From the plane I looked down through a mist upon the blurred landscape beneath me. The hot, humid atmosphere of Caspak condenses as it is fanned by the cold Antarctic air-currrents which sweep across the crater’s top, sending a tenuous ribbon of vapor far out across the Pacific. Through this the picture gave one the suggestion of a colossal impressionistic canvas in greens and browns and scarlets and yellows surrounding the deep blue of the inland sea – just blobs of color taking form through the tumbling mist.” (PTF/2.)
In my opinion, that is a really fine opening paragraph, not the kind you would expect from the usual hack writer of pulp fiction from the period. Anyone who has flown in a small plane can easily picture the scene from this wonderful description. I’m not sure if ERB had ever flown in a plane before he wrote this – I don’t believe he had – which just goes to show the richness and depth of his imagination.
“I dived close to the cliffs and skirted them for several miles without finding the least indication of a suitable landing-place; and then I swung back at a lower level, looking for a clearing close to the bottom of the mighty escarpment; but I could find none of sufficient area to insure safety. I was flying pretty low by this time, not only looking for landing places but watching the myriad life beneath me. I was down pretty well toward the south end of the island, where an arm of the lake reaches far inland, and I could see the surface of the water literally black with creatures of some sort. I was too far up to recognize individuals, but the general impression was of a vast army of amphibious monsters. The land was almost equally alive with crawling, leaping, running, flying things. It was one of the latter which nearly did for me while my attention was fixed upon the weird scene below.
“The first intimation I had of it was the sudden blotting out of the sunlight from above, and as I glanced quickly up, I saw a most terrific creature swooping down upon me. It must have been fully eighty feet from the end of its long, hideous beak to the tip of its thick, short tail, and equal spread of wings. It was coming straight for me and hissing frightfully – I could hear it above the the whir of the propeller. It was coming straight down toward the muzzle of the machine gun and I let it have it right in the breast; but still it came for me, so that I had to dive and turn, though I was dangerously close to earth.
“The thing didn’t miss me by a dozen feet, and when I rose, it wheeled and followed me, but only to the cooler air close to the level of the cliff-tops; there it turned aside and dropped. Something – man’s natural love of battle and the chase, I presume – impelled me to pursue it, and so I too circled and dived. The moment I came down into the warm atmosphere of Caspak, the creature came for me again, rising above so that it might swoop down upon me. Nothing could better have suited my armament, since my machine-gun was pointed upward at an angle of about 45 degrees and could not be either depressed or elevated by the pilot. If I had brought someone along with me, we could have raked the great reptile from almost any position, but as the creature’s mode of attack was always from above, he always found me ready with a hail of bullets. The battle must have lasted a minute or more before the thing suddenly turned completely over in the air and fell to the ground.” (PTF/2.)
The rational reader may well be asking at this time, What in the hell is wrong with Billings? The pleasure of dogfighting with a pterodactyl seems to be his only focus at the moment. He has totally forgotten his mission. Remember, I said the second book in the Trilogy represented the Educated point of view. Well, before we get there we must still get rid of some of Bowen’s Naive point of view left over in Billings. Perhaps Bowen had been a bad influence
on him:
“Bowen and I roomed together at college, and I learned a lot from him outside my regular course. He was a pretty good scholar despite his love of fun, and his particular hobby was paleontology. He used to tell me about the various forms of animal and vegetable life which had covered the globe during former eras, and so I was pretty well acquainted with the fishes, amphibians, reptiles, and mammals of paleolithic times. I knew that the thing that had attacked me was some sort of pterodacty which should have been extinct millions of years ago. It was all that I needed to realize that Bowen had exaggerated nothing in his manuscript.
“Having disposed of my first foe, I set myself once more to search for a landing-place n ear to the base of the cliffs beyond which my party awaited me. I knew how anxious they would be for word from me, and I was equally anxious to to relieve their minds and also to get them and our supplies well within Caspak, so that we might set off about our business of finding and rescuing Bowen Tyler; but the pterodactyl’s carcass had scarcely fallen before I was surrounded by at least a dozen of the hideous things, some large, some small, but all bent upon my destruction. I could not cope with them all, and so I rose rapidly from among them to the cooler strata wherein they dared not follow; and then I recalled that Bowen’s narrative distinctly indicated that the farther north one traveled in Caspak, the fewer were the terrible reptiles which rendered human life impossible at the southern end of the island.
“There seemed nothing now but to search out a more northernly landingplace and then return to the Toreador and transport my companions, two by two, over the cliffs and deposit them at the rendezvous. As I flew north, the temptation to explore overcame me. I knew that I could easily cover Caspak and return to the beach with less petrol than I had in my tanks; and there was the hope, too, that I might find Bowen or some of his party. The broad expanse of the inland sea lured me out over its waters, and as I crossed, I saw at either extremity of the great body of water an island – one to the south and one to the north; but I did not alter my course to examine either closely, leaving that to a later time.” (PTF/2.)
As we can see, Billings is learning his lessons the hard way, but at least he is learning from his mistakes. Or is he?
“The further shore of the sea revealed a much narrower strip of land between the cliffs and the water than upon the western side; but it was a hillier and more open country. There were splendid landing-places, and in the distance, toward the north, I thought I descried a village; but of that I was not positive.
However, as I approached the land, I saw a number of human figures apparently pursuing one who had fled across a broad expanse of meadow. As I dropped lower to have a better look at these people, they caught the whirring of my propellers and looked aloft. They paused an instant – pursuers and pursued; and then they broke and raced for the shelter of the nearest wood. Almost instantaneously a huge bulk swooped down upon me, and as I looked up, I realized that there were flying reptiles even in this part of Caspak. The creature dived for my right wing so quickly that nothing but a sheer drop could have saved me. I was already close to the ground, so that my maneuver was extremely dangerous; but I was in a fair way of making is successfully when I saw that I was too closely approaching a large tree. My effort to dodge the tree and the pterodactyl at the same time resulted disastrously. One wing touched an upper branch; the plane tipped and swung around, and then, out of control, dashed into the branches of the tree, where it came to rest, battered and torn, forty feet above the ground.
“Hissing loudly, the huge reptile swept close above the tree in which my plane had lodged, circled twice over me and then flapped away toward the south. As I guessed then and was to learn later, forests are the surest sanctuary from these hideous creatures, which, with their enormous spread of wing and their great weight, are as much out of place among trees as is a seaplane.” (PTF/2.)
Well, I must say that from here on Billings gets his shit together and embarks on the adventure of his life.
“For a minute or so I clung to my battered flyer, now useless beyond redemption, my brain numbed by the frightful catastrophe that had befallen me. All my plans for the succor of Bowen and Miss La Rue had depended upon this craft, and in a few brief minutes my own selfish love of adventure had wrecked their hopes and mine. And what effect I might have upon the future of the balance of the rescuing expedition I could not even guess. Their lives, too, might be sacrificed to my suicidal foolishness. That I was doomed seemed inevitable; but I can honestly say that the fate of my friends concerned me more greatly than did my own.
“Beyond the barrier cliffs my party was even now nervously awaiting my return. Presently apprehension and fear would claim them – and they would never know! They would attempt to scale the cliffs – of that I was sure; but I was not so positive that they would succeed; and after a while they would turn back, what there were left of them, and go sadly and mournfully upon their return-journey to home. Home! I set my jaws and tried to forget the word, for I knew that I should never again see home.
“And what of Bowen and his girl? I had doomed them too. They would never even know that an attempt had been made to rescue them. If they still lived, they might some day come upon the ruined remnants of this great plane hanging in its lofty sepulcher and hazard vain guesses and be filled with wonder; but they would never know; and I could not but be glad that they would not know that Tom Billings had sealed their death-warrants by his criminal selfishness.” (PTF/2.)
These last paragraphs more than signify the differences in the personalities of Bowen and Billings, for Billings knows he has a problem that affects others, and Bowen never had a clue, rarely reflecting about how his decisions might have ill effects upon others, whether friend or foe. Of course, some of Bowen’s fatalism has begun to creep into Billings’ philosophy, but I figure that is more from the oppressive environment of Caspak added to the memory of Bowen’s
Journal than anything else. 

For those that read this Trilogy without understanding or even noticing the differences in the personalities of his first person narrators...well, they are missing the full joy of ERB’s experiment. Because of his self-reflection, Billings well deserves his role as the Educated point of view, just as the spoiled rich kid Bowen – born with a silver spoon in his mouth – well deserves his role as the Naive point of view.

“All these useless regrets were getting me in a bad way; but at last I shook myself and tried to put things out of my mind and take hold of conditions as they existed and do my level best to wrest victory from defeat. I was badly shaken up and bruised, but considered myself lucky to escape with my life. The plane hung at a precarious angle, so that it was with difficulty and considerable danger that I climbed from it into the tree and then to the ground.
“My predicament was grave. Between me and my friends lay an inland sea fully sixty miles around the northern end of the sea, through such hideous dangers as I am perfectly free to admit had me pretty well buffaloed. I had seen quite enough of Caspak this day to assure me that Bowen had in no way exaggerated its perils. As a matter of fact, I am inclined to believe that he had become so accustomed to them before he started upon his manuscript that he rather slighted them. As I stood there beneath that tree – a tree which should have been part of a coal-bed countless ages since – life which should have been fossil before God conceived Adam – I would not have given a minim of stale beer for my chances of ever seeing my friends or the outside world again; yet then and there I swore to fight my way as far through this hideous land as circumstances would permit. I had plenty of ammunition, an automatic pistol and a heavy rifle – the latter one of twenty added to our equipment on the strength of Bowen’s description of the huge beasts of prey which ravaged Caspak. My greatest danger lay in hideous reptilia whose low nervous organizations permitted their
carnivorous instincts to function for several minutes after they had ceased to live.
“But to these things I gave less thought than to the sudden frustration of all our plans. With the bitterest of thoughts I condemned myself for the foolish weakness that had permitted me to be drawn from the main object of my flight into premature and useless exploration. It seemed to me then that I must be totally eliminated from further search for Bowen, since, as I estimated it, the three hundred miles of Caspakian territory I must traverse to reach the base of the cliffs beyond which my party awaited me were practically impassable for a single individual unaccustomed to Caspakian life and ignorant of all that lay before him. Yet I could not give up hope entirely. My duty lay clear before me; I must follow it while life remained to me, and so I set forth toward the north.” (PTF/2.)
I imagine the experienced ERB reader will have recognized John Carter’s moto, “I still live!,” in Billings’ remarks. Like Carter, Bowen knows that as long as he lives he has hope. Only death can defeat hope.

By the way, I had to look “minim” up in the dictionary since I was totally unfamiliar with the word. It is, of course, a fluid measurement: in the USA it means 1/60 of a fluid dram (0.0616 milliliters); in Great Britain it means 1/20 of a scruple (0.0592 milliliters). So there really is not that much of a difference between the two measurements, but it is interesting to me that ERB used this term to make his point. And now we come to Billings’ travelogue.

“The country through which I took my way was as lovely as it was unusual – I had almost said unearthly, for the plants, the trees, the blooms were not of the earth that I knew. They were larger, the colors more brilliant and the shapes startling, some almost to grotesgueness, though even such added to the charm and romance of the landscape as the giant cacti render weirdly beautiful the waste spots of the sad Mohave. And over all the sun shone huge and round and red, a monster sun above a monstrous world, its light dispersed by the humid air of Caspak – the warm, moist air which lies sluggish upon the breast of this great mother of life, Nature’s mightiest incubator.
“All about me, in every direction, was life. It moved through the tree-tops and among the boles; it displayed itself in widening and intermingling circles upon the bosom of the sea; it leaped above the surface; it rose majestic and terrible from the depths; I could hear it in a dense wood at my right, the murmur of it rising and falling in ceaseless volumes of sound, riven at intervals by a horrid scream or a thunderous roar which shook the earth; and always I was haunted by
that inexplicable sensation that unseen eyes were watching me, that soundless feet dogged my trail. I am neither nervous nor high-strung; but the burden of responsibility upon me weighed heavily, so that I was more cautious than is my wont. I turned often to right and left and rear lest I be surprised, and I carried my rifle at the ready in my hand. Once I could have sworn that among the many creatures dimly perceived amidst the shadows of the wood I saw a human figure dart from one cover to another, but I could not be sure.
“For the most part I skirted the wood, making occasional detours rather than enter those forbidding depths of gloom, though many times I was forced to pass through some arms of the forest which extended to the very shore of the inland sea. There was so sinister a suggestion in the uncouth sounds and the vague glimpses of moving things within the forest, of the menace of strange beasts and possibly still stranger men, that I always breathed more freely when I had passed once more into open country.
“I had traveled northward for perhaps an hour, still haunted by the conviction that I was being stalked by some creature which kept always just hidden among the trees and shrubbery to my right and a little to my rear, when for the hundredth time I was attracted by a sound from that direction, and turning, saw some animal running rapidly through the forest toward me. There was no longer any effort on its part at concealment; it came on through the underbrush swiftly, and I was confident that whatever it was, it had finally gathered the courage to charge me boldly. Before it finally broke into plain view, I became aware that it was not alone, for a few yards in its rear a second thing thrashed through the leafy jungle. Evidently I was to be attacked in force by a pair of hunting beasts or men.
“And then through the last clump of waving ferns broke the figure of the foremost creature, which came leaping toward me on light feet as I stood with my rifle to my shoulder covering the point at which I had expected it would emerge. I must have looked foolish indeed if my surprise and consternation were in any way reflected upon my coutenance as I lowered my rifle and gazed incredulous at the lithe figure of the girl speeding swifly in my direction. But I did not have long to stand thus with lowered weapon, for as she came, I saw her cast an affrighted glance over her shoulder, and at the same moment there broke from the jungle a the same spot at which I had seen her, the hugest cat I had ever looked upon.
“At first I took the beast for a saber-tooth tiger, as it was quite the most fearsome-appearing beast one could imagine; but it was not that dread monster of the past, though quite formidable enough to satisfy the most fastidious thrillhunter. On it came, grim and terrible, its baleful eyes glaring above it distended jaws, its lips curled in a frightful snarl which exposed a whole mouthful of formidable teeth. At sight of me it had abandoned its impetuous rush and was now sneaking slowly toward us; while the girl, a long knife in her hand, took her stand bravely at my left and a little to my rear. She had called something to me in a strange tongue as she raced toward me, and now she spoke again; but what she said I could not then, of course, know – only that her tones were sweet, well modulated and free from any suggestion of panic.
“Facing the huge cat, which I now saw was an enormous panther, I waited until I could place a shot where I felt it would do the most good, for at best a frontal shot at any of the large carnivora is a ticklish matter. I had some advantage in that the beast was not charging; its head was held low and its back exposed; and so at forty yards I took careful aim at its spine at the junction of neck and shoulders. But at the same instant, as though sensing my intention, the great creature lifted its head and leaped forward in full charge. To fire at that sloping forehead I knew would be worse than useless, and so I quickly shifted my aim and pulled the trigger, hoping against hope that the soft-nosed bullet and the heavy charge of powder would have sufficient stopping effect to give me time to place a second shot.
“In answer to the report of the rifle I had the satisfaction of seeing the brute spring into the air, turning a complete somersault; but it was up again almost instantly, though in the brief second that it took it to scramble to its feet and get its bearings, it exposed its left side fully toward me, and a second bullet went crashing through its heart. The vitality of these creatures of Caspak is one of the marvelous features of this strange world and bespeaks the low nervous organization of the old paleolithic life which has been so long extinct in other portions of the world.
“I put a third bullet into the beast at three paces, and then I thought that I was done for; but it rolled over and stopped at my feet, stone dead. I found that my second bullet had torn its heart almost completely away, and yet it had lived to charge ferociously upon me, and but for my third shot would doubtless have slain me before it finally expired – or as Bowen Tyler so quaintly puts it, before it knew that it was dead.” (PTF/2.)
That was quite an action scene, don’t you think? Out of the top three early kings of science fiction – Jules Verne, H.G. Wells, and ERB – the latter was clearly the best when it came to writing action. Moreover, ERB’s action scenes almost always involve women, and you won’t find very many women in Verne or Wells. Though admittedly Wells could write action and horror. There is a scene in The Island of Dr. Moreau where the narrator walking along the beach knowing that he is being stalked by some animal hiding in the palms, that reminded me of that last scene. In fact, I myself have experienced that eerie feeling of being stalked. I recall an incident when I was staying at a house overlooking a perilous channel on Vancouver Island just north of Campbell River. There was a road that went into the forest in front of the house and one dark moonless night I took a stroll like I had done dozens of times before. But this time after about a hundred yards up the road, I got this eerie feeling that an animal was stalking me in the trees to my left. It got so bad that I only made it a few more paces, then I ran like hell back to the house, feeling a little foolish later when nothing emerged from the forest. Of course, I told no one about this.

While both Bowen and Billings, as we shall see, both claim not to be ladies’ men, Billings does a little better in this department than Bowen, though he too, while not as much as a prude as Bowen, is still a little too prudish for me. As we shall see, he will withstand the temptations of the flesh with hardly any effort, which I find remarkable, for this girl that he has just saved is quite a babe.

“With the panther quite evidently conscious of the fact that dissolution had overtaken it, I turned toward the girl, who was regarding me with evident admiration and not a little awe, though I must admit that my rifle claimed quite as much of her attention as did I. She was quite the most wonderful animal that I have ever looked upon, and what few of her charms her apparel hid, it quite effectively succeeded in accentuating. A bit of soft, undressed leather was caught over her left shoulder and beneath her right breast, falling upon her left side to her hip and upon the right to a metal band which encircled her leg above the knee and to which the lowest point of the hide was attached. About her waist was a loose leather belt, to the center of which was attached the scabbard belonging to her knife. There was a single armlet between her right shoulder and elbow, and a series of them covered her left forearm from elbow to wrist. These, I learned later, answer the purpose of a shield against knife attack when the left arm is raised in guard across breast or face.
“Her masses of heavy hair were held in place by a broad metal band which bore a large triangular ornament directly in the center of her forehead. The ornament appeared to be a huge turquoise, while the metal of all her ornaments was beaten, virgin gold, inlaid in intricate design with bits of mother-of-pearl and tiny pieces of stone of various colors. From the left shoulder depended a leopard’s tail, while her feet were shod with sturdy little sandals. The knife was her only weapon. Its blade was of iron, the grip was wound with hide and protected by a guard of three out-bowing strips of flat iron, and upon the top of the hilt was a knob of gold.” (PTF/2.)
Now, its important for the “peep show” reader to get a clear vision of the girl from the get-go in order to get the full erotic pleasure of the scene he has just painted. ERB was not the King of Pulp Fiction for nothing. Remember, a full bodily description would have been banned by censorship, so ERB can only hint and hope the reader’s imagination will do the rest. First of all, it should be rather obvious that since her leather went from her left shoulder “under” her right breast, that her right breast is fully exposed, and, in fact, uplifted, or as ERB puts it, accentuated. Moreover, it is unlikely that the leather would have covered much of her vulva, since it went down her left side to her hip, while on her right side, after going under the right breast, it descended to her right thigh just above the knee. Depending on what definition you give to the word “hip”, it is unlikely that the leather covered much of her vulva, and if it did, it would have been subject to severe flashing. In other words, the leather is largely emblematic, not for covering nudity. This will become more clear later.

Thus as our adventurers cavort off through Caspak, the reader should keep a firm picture of the girl in mind, then imagining how she would appear in each new scene as it is related. You will soon see that although ERB had no success in writing screenplays, his stories are told in such a cinematic manner that they can be easily imagined as motion pictures. And there is nothing quite like a moving naked woman, which is why peep shows soon changed to motion picture pornography. But the imagination cannot be censored, thank God.

Now that I think about it, there is another noticeable difference between Bowen and Billings. Sure, Billings calls the girl an animal, because she is a savage in a savage land, but he can relate to her as an equal, whereas Bowen always thought of the people of Caspak as inferior creatures to regular humans. The idea of having sex with one of them was to Bowen the same kind of idea as having sex with a sheep or a dog – a very repellent idea. Yet Billings does not have this idea. 

“I took in much of this in the few seconds during which we stood facing each other, and I also observed another salient feature of her appearance: she was frightfully dirty! Her face and limbs and garment were streaked with mud and perspiration, and yet even so, I felt that I had never looked upon so perfect and beautiful a creature as she. Her figure beggars description, and equally so, her face. Were I one of these writer-fellows, I should probably say that her features were Grecian, but being neither a writer nor a poet I can do her greater justice by saying that she combined all of the finest lines that one sees in the typical American girl’s face rather than the pronounced sheeplike physiognomy of the Greek goddess. No, even the dirt couldn’t hide that fact; she was beautiful beyond compare.” (PTF/2.)
As one can see, ERB is letting the individual reader formulate his or her own image of the perfect woman goddess. He preferred all literary references to Greek goddesses to be not literal, since the surviving statues of nude Greek goddesses do not have in our modern view, very appealing faces. ERB made sure he didn’t lock his readers into this negative image, giving them the option of attaching an American girl’s face to the Greek statues of nude goddesses.

This is a good place to stop for now. We are halfway through Chapter 2. We will cover the second half in the next installment. Until then, stay safe.

(Continued in Part Ten)
(For any comments, contact

Woodrow Edgar Nichols, Jr.
(Dedicated to George McWhorter)
ERBzine Refs
The Land that Time Forgot - eText edition

CASPAK IN REVIEW by Steve Servello
Caspak Dictionary by Banks Miller
Wieroo of Caprona by Den Valdron
The Mystery of Caprona by Den Valdron
Caspak Maps
Caspakian Demography
Caspakian Fauna
Caspak Art by Mahlon Blaine
Sociology of the Wieroo by Rick Johnson
Popular Science and the Land That Time Forgot by Phil Burger
LOOSE STRING ~ COS-ATA-LO by Sailor Barsoom
The Land That Time Forgot - Film Version
The Land That Time Forgot - ERB C.H.A.S.E.R.

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