If you lived in the oil-field city of Piperstown, you’d be afraid to open the door of your own home . . . for nitro hell might explode in your very face. You’d dread stepping on the starter of your car. You’d cringe from opening your own breadbox. You’d know fear — such — as only the wanton cruelty of the Flame King could strike into your heart. And you’d blame the Spider for aiding in these atrocities…. For the Spider — who fought alone to save life, property, and oil for our war effort — was blamed by the police for every new outrage. And the Flame King rode high on his self-made flood of black gold and red blood.