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VOL. IV, No. 2 CONTENTS NOVEMBER, 1930

COVER DESIGN H. W. WESSOLOWSKI

 _Painted in Water-Colors from a Scene in "The Pirate Planet. "_

THE WALL OF DEATH VICTOR ROUSSEAU 151

 _Out of the Antarctic It Came--a Wall of Viscid, Grey, Half-Human Jelly, Absorbing and Destroying All Life That It Encountered. _

THE PIRATE PLANET CHARLES W. DIFFIN 168

 _A Strange Light Blinks on Venus, and Over Old Earth Hovers a Mysterious Visitant--Dread Harbinger of Interplanetary War. _ (Beginning a Four-Part Novel. )

THE DESTROYER WILLIAM MERRIAM ROUSE 198

 _Slowly, Insidiously, There Stole Over Allen Parker Something Uncanny. He Could No Longer Control His Hands--Even His Brain!_

THE GRAY PLAGUE L. A. ESHBACH 210

 _Maimed and Captive, in the Depths of an Interplanetary Meteor-Craft, Lay the Only Possible Savior of Plague-Ridden Earth. _

JETTA OF THE LOWLANDS RAY CUMMINGS 230

 _Black-Garbed Figures Move in Ghastly Greenness As the Invisible Flyer Speeds on Its Business of Ransom. _ (Conclusion. )

VAGABONDS OF SPACE HARL VINCENT 244

 _From the Depths of the Sargasso Sea of Space Came the Thought-Warning, "Turn Back!" But Carr and His Martian Friend Found It Was Too Late!_ (A Complete Novelette. )

THE READERS' CORNER ALL OF US 271

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Issued monthly by Publishers' Fiscal Corporation, 80 Lafayette St. , New York. N. Y. W. M. Clayton, President; Francis P. Pace, Secretary. Entered as second-class matter December 7, 1929, at the Post Office atNew York, N. Y. , under Act of March 3, 1879. Title registered as aTrade Mark in the U. S. Patent Office. Member Newsstand Group--Men'sList. For advertising rates address E. R. Crowe & Co. , Inc. , 25Vanderbilt Ave. , New York: or 225 North Michigan Ave. , Chicago. 

 * * * * *

The Wall of Death

_By Victor Rousseau_

[Illustration: And then Kay had broken through and was hewing madlywith great sweeps of the ax. ]

[Sidenote: Out of the Antarctic it came--a wall of viscid, grey, half-human jelly, absorbing and destroying all life that itencountered. ]

"This news, " said Cliff Hynes, pointing to the newspaper, "means theend of _homo Americanus_. "

The newspaper in question was the hour-sheet of the InternationalBroadcast Association, just delivered by pneumatic tube at thelaboratory. It was stamped 1961, Month 13, Day 7, Horometer 3, and theheadlines on the front page confirmed the news of the decisive defeatof the American military and naval forces at the hands of the ChineseRepublic. 

A gallant fight for days against hopeless odds; failure of the armydynamos; airships cut off from ground guidance; battleships ripped topieces by the Chinese disintegrators; and, finally, the great wave ofblack death that had wiped out two hundred thousand men. 

Kay Bevan--to use the old-fashioned names which still persisted, despite the official numerical nomenclature--glanced through theaccount. He threw the sheet away. "We deserved it, Cliff, " he said. 

Cliff nodded. "You saw that bit about the new Chinese disintegrator?If the Government had seriously considered our Crumbler--"

Kay glanced at the huge, humming top that filled the center of thelaboratory. It spun so fast that it appeared as nothing but aspherical shadow, through which one could see the sparse furnishings, the table, the apparatus ranged upon it, and the window over-lookingthe upper streets of New York. 

"Yes--_if!_" he answered bitterly. "And I'm willing to bet the Chinesehave an inferior machine, built upon the plans that Chinese servantstole from us last year. "

"We deserved it, Cliff, " said Kay again. "For ten years we've harriedand enslaved the yellow man, and taken a hundred thousand of his menand women to sacrifice to the Earth Giants. What would we have done, if conditions had been reversed?"

"Self-preservation, " Cliff suggested. 

"Exactly. The law of the survival of the fittest. They thought thatthey were fitter to survive. I tell you they had right on their side, Cliff, and that's what's beaten us. Now--a hundred thousand of our_own_ boys and girls must be fed into the maw of these monsters everyyear. God, suppose it were Ruth!"

"Or you or I, " said Cliff. "If only we could perfect the Crumbler!"

"What use would that be against the Earth Giants? There's nothingorganic about them, not even bones. Pure protoplasm!"

"We could have used it against the Chinese, " said Cliff. "Now--" Heshrugged his shoulders hopelessly. 

 * * * * *

And if explorers had been content to leave the vast unknown AntarcticContinent alone, they would never have taught the imprisoned Giants tocross the great ice barrier. But that crossing had taken place fifteenyears ago, and already the mind of man had become accustomed to thegrim facts. 

Who could have dreamed that the supposed table-land was merely a rimof ice-mountains, surrounding a valley twice the size of Europe, sofar below sea-level that it was warmed to tropic heat by Earth'sinterior fires? Or that this valley was peopled with what could bestbe described as organized protoplasm?

Enormous, half-transparent, gelatinous organism, attaining a height ofabout a hundred feet, and crudely organized into forms not unlikethose of men?

Half the members of the Rawlins Expedition, which had first enteredthis valley, had fallen victims to the monsters. Most of the rest hadgone raving mad. And the stories of the two who returned, sane, toBuenos Aires, were discredited and scoffed at as those of madmen. 

But of a second expedition none had survived, and it was the solitarysurvivor of the third who had confirmed the amazing story. The giantmonsters, actuated by some flickering human intelligence, had foundtheir way out of the central valley, where they had subsisted byenfolding their vegetable and small animal prey with pseudopods, thatit to say, temporary projections of arms from the gelatinous bulk oftheir substance. 

They had floated across the shallow seas between the tip of theAntarctic Continent and Cape Horn, as toy balloons float on water. Then they had spread northward, extending in a wall that reached fromthe Atlantic to the Andes. And, as they moved, they had devoured allvegetables and animal life in their path. Behind them lay one greatbare, absolutely lifeless area. 

 * * * * *

How many of them were there? That was the hideout fact that had to befaced. Their numbers could not be counted because, after attaining aheight of about a hundred feet, they reproduced by budding!

And within a few weeks these buds, in turn, attained their fulldevelopment. 

The Argentine Government had sent a force of twenty thousand menagainst them, armed with cannon, machine-guns, tanks, airplanes, poison gas, and the new death-ray. And in the night, when it wasbivouacking, after what it had thought was glorious victory, it hadbeen overwhelmed _and eaten_!

Proof against the poison gas, the hideous monsters were, andinvulnerable to shot and shell. Divided and sub-divided, slashed intoribbons, blown to fragments by bombs, each of the pieces simply becamethe nucleus of a new organism, able, within a few hours, to assume theoutlines of a dwarf man, and to seize and devour its prey. 

But the Argentine expedition had done worse than it at first dreamedof. _It had given the monsters a taste for human flesh!_

After that, the wave of devastation had obliterated life in every cityclear up to the Amazonian forests. And then it had been discoveredthat, by feeding these devils human flesh, they could be renderedtorpid and their advance stayed--so long as the periodical mealscontinued!

At first criminals had been supplied them, then natives, then Chinese, obtained by periodical war raids. What would you have? The savageregions of the earth had already been depopulated, and a frenzy offear had taken possession of the whole world. 

Now the Chinese had defeated the annual American invasion, and theEarth Giants were budding and swarming through the heart of Brazil. 

 * * * * *

"Man, " said the Theosophists, "is the fifth of the great root-racesthat have inhabited this planet. The fourth were the Atlanteans. Thethird were the Lemurians, half-human beings of whom the Australianaborigines are the survivors. The second race was not fully organizedinto human form. Of the first, nothing is known. 

"These are the second race, surviving in the Antarctic valleys. Half-human objects, groping toward that perfection of humanity ofwhich we ourselves fall very far short. As the Kabbala says, man, before Adam, reached from heaven to earth. "

Kay Bevan and Cliff Hynes had been, working feverishly to perfecttheir Crumbler for use in the Chinese wars. Convinced, as were allfair-minded men, that these annual raids were unjustified, theyyielded to the logic of the facts. Should America sacrifice a hundredthousand of her boys and girls each year, when human life was cheap inChina? _Boys and girls!_

It had been discovered that the Earth Giants required the flesh ofwomen as well as of men. Some subtle chemical constituent thenproduced the state of torpidity during which the advance and thebudding of the monsters was stayed. During the ten past years theirnorthward advance had been almost inappreciable. Brazil had even sentanother army against them. 

But the deadliest gases had failed to destroy the tenacious life ofthese protoplasmic creatures, and the tanks, which had driven throughand through them, had become entangled and blocked in the gelatinousexudations, and their occupants eaten. 

All over the world scientists were striving to invent some way ofremoving this menace to the world. Moreover, airplanes sent to thepolar continent had reported fresh masses mobilizing for the advancenorthward. A second wave would probably burst through the Amazonforest barrier and sweep over the Isthmus and overrun North America. 

Five days after the news of the Chinese disaster was confirmed, CliffHynes came back from the capital of the American Confederation, Washington. 

"It's no use, Kay, " he said. "The Government won't even look at theCrumbler. I told them it would disintegrate every inorganic substanceto powder, and they laughed at me. And it's true, Kay: they've givenup the attempt to enslave China. Henceforward a hundred thousand ofour own citizens are to be sacrificed each year. Eaten alive, Kay!God, if only the Crumbler would destroy organic forms as well!"

 * * * * *

The first year's quota of fifty thousand boys and fifty thousandgirls, thrown to the maw of the monsters to save humanity, nearlydisrupted the Confederation. Despite the utmost secrecy, despite thepenalty of death for publishing news of the sacrifice, despite thefact that those who drew the fatal lots were snatched from their homesat dead of night, everything became known. 

On the vast pampas in the extreme north of the Argentine Republic, where Bolivia, the Argentine, Paraguay and Brazil unite, was the placeof sacrifice. Thousands of acres, white with the bones of those whomthe monsters had engulfed. Brainless, devoid of intelligence, sightless, because even the sense had not become differentiated inthem, yet by some infernal instinct the Earth Giants had become awarethat this was their feasting ground. 

By some tacit compact, the guards who had annually brought theirvictims to be devoured had been unmolested, the vast wall ofsemi-human shapes withdrawing into the shelter of the surroundingforests while the Chinese were staked out in rows. Death, which wouldhave been a mercy, had been denied them. It was living flesh that theEarth Giants craved. And here, on the spot known as Golgotha, thehideous sacrifice had been annually repeated. 

That first year, when the chosen victims were transported to the fatalspot, all America went mad. Frenzied parents attacked the offices ofthe Federation in every city. The cry was raised that SpanishAmericans had been selected in preference to those of more northernblood. Civil war loomed imminent. 

And year after year these scenes must be repeated. Boys and girls, from fifteen to twenty years of age, the flower of the Federation, ahundred thousand of them, must die a hideous death to save humanity. Now the choice of the second year's victims was at hand. 

In their laboratory, removed to the heart of the Adirondackswilderness, Cliff and Kay were working frantically. 

"It's the last chance, Kay, " said Cliff. "If I've not solved thesecret this time, it means another year's delay. The secret ofdissolving organic forms as well as inorganic ones! What is thismysterious power that enables organic forms to withstand the terrificbombardment of the W-ray?"

The W-ray was the Millikan cosmic ray, imprisoned and adapted forhuman use. It was a million times more powerful than the highest knownvoltage of electricity. Beneath it, even the diamond, the hardestsubstance known, dissolved into a puff of dust; and yet the mostfragile plant growth remained unaffected. 

 * * * * *

The laboratory in the Adirondacks was open at one end. Here, against abackground of big forest trees, a curious medley of substances hadbeen assembled: old chairs, a couple of broken-down airplanes, a largedisused dynamo, a heap of discarded clothing, a miscellany of kitchenutensils on a table, a gas stove, and a heap of metal junk of allkinds. The place looked, in fact, like a junk heap. 

The great top was set in a socket in a heavy bar of craolite, the newmetal that combined the utmost tensile strength with completeinfusibility, even in the electric furnace. About six feet in height, it looked like nothing but what it was, a gyroscope in gimbals, with along and extremely narrow slit extending all around the centralbulge, but closed on the operator's side by a sliding cover of thesame craolite. 

Within this top, which, by its motion, generated a field of electricalforce between the arms of an interior magnet, the W-rays weregenerated in accordance with a secret formula; the speed of gyration, exceeding anything known on earth, multiplied their force abillionfold, converting them to wave-lengths shorter than the shortestknown to physical science. Like all great inventions, the top was ofthe simplest construction. 

"Well, " said Cliff, "you'd better bring out Susie. "

Kay left the laboratory and went to the cabin beside the lake that thetwo men occupied. From her box in front of the stove a lady porcupinelooked up lazily and grunted. Kay raised the porcupine; in the box, ofcourse. Susie was constitutionally indolent, but one does not handleporcupines, however smooth their quills may lie. 

Kay brought her to the heap of junk and placed the box on top of it. He went inside the laboratory. "I may as well tell you, Cliff. Iwouldn't have brought Susie if I'd thought the experiment had theleast chance of success, " he said. 

Cliff said nothing. He was bending over the wheel, adjusting amicrometer. "All ready, Kay?" he asked. 

 * * * * *

Kay nodded and stepped back. He swallowed hard. He hated sacrificingSusie to the cause of science; he almost hoped the experiment wouldfail. 

Cliff pressed a lever, and slowly the ponderous top began to revolveupon its axis. Faster, faster, till it was nothing but a blur. Fasteryet, until only its outlines were visible. Cliff pressed a lever onthe other side. 

Nothing happened apparently, except for a cloudy appearance of the airat the open end of the laboratory. Cliff touched a foot lever. The topbegan to grow visible, its rotations could be seen; it ran slower, began to come to a stop. 

The cloud was gone. Where the airplanes and other junk had been, wasnothing but a heap of grayish dust. It was this that had made thecloud. 

Nothing remained, except that impalpable powder against the backgroundof the trees. 

Kay caught Cliff's arm. "Look out!" he shouted, pointing to the heap. "Something's moving in there!"

Something was. A very angry lady porcupine was scrambling out, a_quillless_ porcupine, with a white skin, looking like nothing so muchas a large, hairless rat. Cliff turned to Kay. 

"We've failed, " he said briefly. "Too late for this year now. "

"But--the quills?"

"Inorganic material. But even the bones remain intact because there'scirculation in the marrow, you see. And the Earth Giants haven't evenbones. They're safe--this year!"

He flung himself down under a tree, staring up at the sky in abjectdespair. 

 * * * * *

"Look, Kay, I've got my number!" Ruth Meade smiled as she handed Kaythe ticket issued by the Government announcing the lottery numberprovided for each citizen. 

One hundred thousand young people between the ages of fifteen andtwenty would be drawn for the sacrifice, and Ruth, being nineteen, hadcome within the limits, but this would be her last year. In a fewweeks the Government would announce the numbers--drawn by a secondlottery--of those who were condemned. 

Then, before these had been made public, the victims would alreadyhave been seized and hurried to the airship depots in a hundredplaces, for conveyance to the hideous Golgotha of the pampas. 

The chance that any individual would be among the fated ones wasreasonably small. It was the fashion to make a jest of the wholebusiness. Ruth smiled as she showed her ticket. 

Kay stared at it. "Ruth, if--if anything happened to you I'd goinsane. I'd--"

"Why this sudden ardor, Kay?"

 * * * * *

Kay took Ruth's small hand in his. "Ruth, you mustn't play with me anymore. You know I love you. And the sight of that thing makes me almostinsane. You do care, don't you?" And, as Ruth remained silent, "Ruth, it isn't Cliff Hymes, is it? I know you two are old friends. I'drather it were Cliff than anybody else, if it had to be some one, but--tell me, Ruth!"

"It isn't Cliff, " said Ruth slowly. 

"Is it--some one else?"

"It's you, dear, " answered Ruth. "It's always been you. It might havebeen Cliff if you hadn't come along. But he knows now it can never behe. "

"Does he know it's me?" asked Kay, greatly relieved. 

Ruth inclined her head. "He took it very finely, " she said. "He saidjust what you've said about him. Oh, Kay, if only your experiment hadsucceeded, and the world could be free of this nightmare! Whathappened? Why couldn't you and Cliff make it destroy life?"

"I don't know, dear, " answered Kay. "Iron and steel melt into powderat the least impact of the rays. They are so powerful that there waseven a leakage through the rubber and anelektron container. Even thecraolite socket was partly fused, and that is supposed to be animpossibility. And there was a hole in the ground seven feet deepwhere the very mineral water in the earth had been dissolved. Butagainst organic substances the W-ray is powerless. 

"Next year, dear--next year we'll have solved our problem, and thenwe'll free the world of this menace, this nightmare. Ruth--don't let'stalk about that now. I love you!"

They kissed. The Earth Giants faded out of their consciousness evenwhile Ruth held that ominous ticket in her hand. 

 * * * * *

Kay said nothing to Cliff about it, but Cliff knew. Perhaps he had puthis fate to the test with Ruth and learned the truth from her. Ruthmade no reference to the matter when she saw Kay. But between the twomen, friends for years, a coolness was inexorably developing. 

They had gone to work on the new machine. They were hopeful. When theywere working, they forgot their rivalry. 

"You see, Kay, " said Cliff, "we mustn't forget that the Millikan rayshave been bombarding Earth since Earth became a planet, out of thedepths of space. It is their very nature not to injure organic life, otherwise all life on Earth would have been destroyed long ago. Now, our process is only an adaptation of these cosmic rays. We haven'tchanged their nature. "

"No, " agreed Kay. "What we want is a death-ray strong enough toobliterate these monsters, without simply disintegrating them andcreating new fragments to bud into the complete being. Why do yousuppose they are so tenacious of life, Cliff?"

"They represent primeval man, life itself, striving to organizeitself, and nothing is more tenacious than the life principle, "answered Cliff. 

Meanwhile the fatal weeks were passing. A few days after the ticketshad been distributed, a Government notice was broadcasted andpublished, ordaining that, in view of former dissensions, nosubstitutes for the condemned persons would be permitted. Rich orpoor, each of the victims chosen by lot must meet his fate. 

 * * * * *

And the monsters were growing active. There had been an extension oftheir activities. Tongues had been creeping up the rivers that raninto the Amazon. Suddenly a dense mass of the devils had appeared onthe north coast, near Georgetown. They had overleaped the Amazon; theywere overrunning British Guiana, eating up everything on their way. Georgetown was abandoned; the monsters were in complete control. 

"They will be cut off from the main herd, " the optimistic reportsannounced. "We shall deal with the main herd first. This year thesacrifice will have to be made, but it will be the last. Scientistshave at last hit upon an infallible toxin which will utterly destroythis menace within a few months. "

Nobody believed that story, for everything had been tried and failed. In their laboratory Cliff and Kay were working frantically. And nowthe coldness that had developed between them was affecting theircollaboration too. Cliff was keeping something back from Kay. 

 * * * * *

Kay knew it. Cliff had made some discovery that he was not sharingwith his partner. Often Kay, entering the laboratory, would find Clifffurtively attempting to conceal some operation that he was in themidst of. Kay said nothing, but a brooding anger began to fill hisheart. So Cliff was trying to get all the credit for the result oftheir years of work together!

And always, in the back of his mind, there was a vision of the littleGovernment ticket in Ruth's hand, with the numbers in staring blacktype. They had burned into his brain. He could never forget them. Often at night, after a hard day's work, he would suddenly awaken outof a hideous nightmare, in which he saw Ruth taken away by the agentsof the Government, to be thrown as a sacrifice to the monsters. 

And Cliff was hiding something! That made the situation unbearable. 

The coolness between the two men was rapidly changing into openanimosity. And then one day, quite by chance, in Cliff's absence, Kaycame upon evidence of Cliff's activities. 

Cliff was no longer experimenting with the W-ray! He was using a newtype of ray altogether, the next series, the psenium electronemanation discovered only a few years before, which had the peculiarproperty of non-alternation, even when the psenium electron changedits orbit around the central nucleus of the psenium atom. 

Instead of discontinuity, the psenium electron had been found to emitradiation steadily, and this had upset the classic theories of matterfor the ninth time in the past fifteen years. 

 * * * * *

And Kay's wrath broke loose in a storm of reproaches when Cliff cameinto the laboratory. 

"You've been deliberately keeping me in the dark!" he shouted. "You'rea nice sort of partner to have! Here's where we split up thecombination, Hynes!"

"I've been thinking that for a long time, " sneered Cliff. "The factis, Kay, you're a little too elementary in your ideas to suit me. It'sdue to you that I kept hammering away on the wrong tack for years. Thesooner we part, the better. "

"No time like now, " said Kay. "Keep your laboratory. You put most ofthe money into it, anyway. I'll build me another--where I can workwithout being hampered by a partner who's out for himself all thetime. Good luck to you in your researches, and I hope you'll get allthe credit when you find a way of annihilating the Earth Giants. "

And he stormed out of the laboratory, jumped into his plane, andwinged his way southward toward his apartment in New York. 

 * * * * *

Crowds in the streets of every town on the way. In villages andhamlets, swarming like ants, and hurrying along the highways! Kay, whoflew one of the slow, old-fashioned planes, averaging little more thana hundred miles an hour, winged his way methodically overhead, toomuch absorbed in his anger against Cliff to pay much attention to thisphenomenon at first. But gradually it was borne in upon him thatsomething was wrong. 

He flew lower, and now he was passing over a substantial town, and hecould hear the shouts of anger that came up to him. The whole town wasin a ferment, gathered in the town square. 

Suddenly the reason came home to Kay. He saw the adjoining airport, and dropped like a plummet, hovering down until his wheels touched theground. Without waiting to taxi into one of the public hangars, heleaped out and ran through the deserted grounds into the square. 

Groans, yells, shrieks of derision rent the air. The whole crowd hadgone maniacal. And it was as Kay had thought. Upon a white backgroundhigh up on the town ball building, the numbers of the local boys andgirls who had been picked for sacrifices were being shown. 

 * * * * *

Eight boys and fifteen girls, already on their way into the wastes ofSouth America, to meet a hideous death. 

"They took my Sally, " screamed a wizened woman, the tears raining downher checks. "Kidnapped her at the street corner after dark. I didn'tknow why she hadn't come home last night. God, my Sally, my littlegirl, gone--gone--"

"People, you must be patient, " boomed the Government announcer. "ThePresident feels with you in your affliction. But by next year a meanswill have been devised of destroying these monsters. Your childrenwill have their sacrifice recorded in the Hall of Fame. They are truesoldiers who--"

"To hell with the Government!" roared a man. "Stop that damn talkmachine! Break her, fellows! Then we'll hang President Bogart from thetop of the Capitol!"

Yells answered him, and the crowd surged forward toward the building. 

"Stand back!" shrieked the announcer. "It's death to set foot on thestep. We are now electrified. Last warning!"

The first ranks of the mob recoiled as a charge of electricity at avoltage just short of that required to take life coursed through theirbodies. Shrieks of agony rang out. Files of writhing forms covered theground. 

 * * * * *

Kay rushed to the automatic clerk at the window beside the metalsteps, taking care to avoid contact with them. Within six feet, thetemperature of his body brought the thermostatic control into action;the window slid upward and the dummy appeared. He turned the dial toAlbany. 

"I want New York Division, Sub-station F, Loyalist Registration, " hecalled. "Give me Z numbers of the lottery, please. "

"No numbers will be given out until Horometer 13, " the dummy boomed. 

"But I tell you I must know immediately!" Kay pleaded frantically. 

"Stand away, please!"

"I've got to know, I tell you!"

"We are now electrified. Last warning!"

"Listen to me. My name's Kay Bevan. I--"

A mighty buffet in the chest hurled Kay ten feet backward upon theground. He rose, came within the electric zone, felt his arms twistedin a giant's grasp, staggered back again and sat down gasping. Thewindow went down noiselessly, the dummy swung back into place. Kay gotupon his feet again, choking with impotent rage. 

All about him men and women were milling in a frantic mob. He brokethrough them, went back to where his plane was standing. A minutelater he was driving madly toward the district airport in New Yorkwithin three blocks of Ruth's apartment. 

 * * * * *

He dropped into a vacant landing place, checked hastily, and rushedinto the elevator. Once in the upper street, he bounded to the middleplatform, and, not satisfied to let it convey him at eight miles anhour, strode on through the indignant throng until he reached hisdestination. Hurling the crowds right and left he gained the exit, and a half-minute later was on the upper level of the apartment block. 

He pushed past the janitor and raced along the corridor to Ruth'sapartment. She would be in if all was well; she worked for theBroadcast Association, correcting the proofs that came from thedistrict headquarters by pneumatic tube. He stopped outside the door. The little dial of white light showed him that the apartment wasunoccupied. 

As he stood there in a daze, hoping against hope, he saw a threadhanging from the crevice between door and frame. He pulled at it, anddrew out a tiny strip of scandium, the new compressible metal that hadbecome fashionable for engagement rings. Plastic, all but invisible, it could be compressed to the thickness of a sheet of paper: it wasthe token of secret lovers, and Kay had given Ruth a ring of it. 

It was the signal, the dreaded signal that Ruth had been on thelottery list--the only signal that she had been able to convey, sincestringent precautions were taken to prevent the victims becoming knownuntil all possibility of rescue was removed. 

 * * * * *

No chance of rescuing her! From a hundred airports the greatGovernment airships had long since sailed into the skies, carryingthose selected by the wheel at Washington for sacrifice to the EarthGiants. Only one chance remained. If Cliff had discovered the secretthat had so long eluded them, surely he would reveal it to him now!

Their quarrel was forgotten. Kay only knew that the woman he loved waseven then speeding southward to be thrown to the maw of the vilemonsters that held the world in terror. Surely Cliff would bend everyeffort to save her!

Only a few hours had passed since Kay had stormed out of thelaboratory in the Adirondacks in a rage when he was back on theirlittle private landing field. He leaped from the plane and ran up thetrail beside the lake between the trees. The cabin was dark; and, whenKay reached the laboratory he found it dark too. 

"Cliff! Cliff!" he shouted. 

No answer came, and with a sinking heart he snapped the button at thedoor. It failed to throw the expected flood of light through theinterior. With shaking hand Kay pulled the little electron torch fromhis pocket, and its bright beam showed that the door was padlocked. Hemoved round to the window. The glass was unbreakable, but the ray fromthe torch showed that the interior of the laboratory had beendismantled, and the great top was gone. 

In those few hours Cliff, for reasons best known to himself, hadremoved the top, Kay's one hope of saving Ruth. And he was gone. 

 * * * * *

In that moment Kay went insane. He raved and cursed, calling downvengeance upon Cliff's head. Cliff's very motive was incredible. Thathe had deliberately removed the top in order that Ruth should die wasnot, of course, conceivable. But in that first outburst of fury Kaydid not consider that. 

Presently Kay's madness burned itself out. There was still one thingthat he could do. His plane, slow though it was, would carry him tothe pampas. He could get fresh fuel at numerous bootleg petrolstations, even though the regulations against intersectional flightwere rigid. With luck he could reach the pampas, perhaps before thesluggish monsters had fallen upon their prey. It was said that thevictims sometimes waited for days!

Something was rubbing against his leg, pricking it through hisanklets. Kay looked down. A lady porcupine, with tiny new quills, wasshowing recognition, even affection, if such a spiny beast could besaid to possess that quality. 

Somehow the presence of the beast restored Kay's mind to normal. 

"Well, he's left us both in the lurch, Susie, " he said. "Good luck toyou, beastie, and may you find a secure hiding place until your quillshave grown. "

 * * * * *

Drowning men catch at straws. Kay snatched out his watch, and theilluminated dial showed that it was already two quintets pasthorometer 13. He darted back to the cabin. The door was unfastened, and his torch showed him that, though Cliff had evidently departed, and taken his things, the interior was much as it had been. When Kaypicked up the telephotophone, the oblong dial flashed out. Theinstrument was in working order. 

He turned the crank, and swiftly a succession of scenes flashed overthe dial. On this little patch of glassite, Kay was actually makingthe spatial journey to Albany, each minutest movement of the crankrepresenting a distance covered. The building of the New York Divisionappeared, and its appearance signified that Kay was telephonicallyconnected. But there was no automatic voice attachment, an expensethat Kay and Cliff had decided would be unjustified. He had to relyupon the old-fashioned telephone, such as was still widely in use inrural districts. He took up the receiver. 

"Sub-Station F, Loyalist Registration, please, " he called. 

"Speaking, " said a girl's voice presently. 

"I want the Z numbers. All from Z5 to ZA, " said Kay. 

And thus, in the dark hut, he listened to the doom pronounced, milesaway, by a more or less indifferent operator. When the fatal numberwas read out, he thanked her and hung up. He released the crank, whichmoved back to its position, putting out the light on the dial. 

 * * * * *

For a moment or two he stood there motionless, in a sort of daze, though actually he was gathering all his reserves of resolution forthe task confronting him. Simply to find Ruth among the hundredthousand victims, and die with her. A task stupendous in itself, andyet Kay had no doubt that he would succeed, that he would be holdingher in his arms when the tide of hell flowed over them. 

He knew the manner of that death. The irresistible onset of the giantmasses of protoplasm, the extrusion of temporary arms, or feelers, that would grasp them, drag them into the heart of the yieldingsubstance, and slowly smother them to death while the life was drainedfrom their bodies. It had been said the death was painless, but thatwas Government propaganda. But he would be holding Ruth in his arms. He'd find her: he had no doubt of that at all. 

And, strangely enough, now that Kay knew the worst, now that not theslightest doubt remained, he was conscious of an elevation of spirits, a sort of mad recklessness that was perfectly indefinable. 

 * * * * *

Kay turned his torch into a corner of the kitchen. Yes, there was thething subconsciousness had prompted him to seek. A long-shafted, heavywoodsman's ax, a formidable weapon at close quarters. Because it isthe instinct of _homo Americanus_ to die with a weapon in his hands, rather than let himself be butchered helplessly, Kay snatched it up. He ran back to his plane. The gas tank was nearly empty, but there waspetrol in the ice house beside the lake. 

Kay wheeled the machine up to it, and filled up with gas and oil. Allready now! He leaped in, pressed the starter, soared vertically, helicopter wings fluttering like a soaring hawk's. Up to the passengerair lane at nine thousand: higher to twelve, the track of theinternational and supply ships; higher still, to the fourteen thousandceiling of the antiquated machine. He banked, turned southward. 

It was freezing cold up there, and Kay had no flying suit on him, but, between the passenger lane and the lane of the heliospheres, atthirty thousand, there was no air police. And he could afford to takeno chances. The Government police would be on the lookout for a scoresuch desperate men as he, bent on a similar mission. He drove theplane toward the Atlantic till a red glow began to diffuse itselfbeneath him, an area of conflagration covering square miles ofterritory. 

Swooping lower, Kay could hear the sound of detonations, the roar ofold-fashioned guns, while through the pall of lurid smoke came thelong, violet flashes of atomic guns, cleaving lanes of devastation. New York was burning. 

The frenzied populace had broken into revolt, seized the guns storedin the arsenals, and attacked the great Bronx fortress that stood likea mighty sentinel to protect the port. 

A swarm of airships came into view, swirling in savage fight. Kayzoomed. It was not his battle. 

 * * * * *

Now New York lay behind him, and he was winging southward over theAtlantic. All night he flew. At dawn he came down in a coast hamletfor bootleg petrol and oil. 

"You come from New York?" asked the Georgian. "Hear there's war brokeout up there. "

"My war's down in Brazil, " muttered Kay. 

"Say, if them Giants comes up here yuh know what us folks is going todo? We're going to set the hounds on 'em. Yes, sirree, we've got apack of bloodhounds, raised for jest that purpose. I guess that'ssomething them wisecrackers at Washington ain't thought of. They tooktwo little fellers from Hopetown, but they won't take nobody fromhere. "

Kay fuelled up and resumed his flight southward. 

After that it was a nightmare. The sun rose and set, alternating withthe staring moon and stars. Kay crossed the Caribbean, sighted theSouth American coast, swept southward over the jungles of Brazil. Hedrank, but no food passed his lips. He had become a mechanism, set foron special purpose--self-immolation. 

 * * * * *

It was in a wide savannah among the jungles that he first caught sightof the monsters. At first he thought it was the rising dawn mist; thenhe began to distinguish a certain horrible resemblance to human forms, and swooped down, banking round and round the opening in the jungleuntil he could see clearly. 

There were perhaps a score of them, an advance guard that had pushedforward from one of the main divisions. Men? Anthropoids, rather, fortheir sex was indistinguishable! Human forms ranging from a few feetto a hundred, composed apparently of a grayish jelly, propellingthemselves clumsily on two feet, but floating rather than walking. Translucent, semi-transparent. Most horrible of all, these shadowy, spheroid creatures exhibited here and there buds of various sizes, which were taking on the similitude of fresh forms. And among themwere the young, the buds that had fallen from the parent stems, fullyformed humans of perhaps five or six feet, bouncing with a horribleplayfulness among their sires. 

As Kay soared some three hundred feet overhead, a young tapir cameleaping out of the jungle and ran, apparently unconscious of theirpresence, right toward the monsters. Suddenly it stopped, and Kay sawthat it was already encircled by coils of protoplasm, resembling arms, which had shot forth from the bodies of the devils. 

 * * * * *

Swiftly, despite its struggles and bleatings, the tapir was drawn intothe substance of the monsters, which seemed to fuse together and forma solid wall of protoplasm in all respects like the agglutination ofbacteria under certain conditions. 

Then the beast vanished in the wall, whose agitated churnings alonegave proof of its existence. 

For perhaps ten minutes longer Kay remained hovering above theclearing. Then the bodies divided, resuming their separate shapes. Andthe white bones of the tapir lay in a huddled mass in the open. 

Kay went mad. Deliberately he set down his plane, and, hatchet inhand, advanced upon the sluggish monsters. Shouting wildly, he leapedinto their midst. 

The fight that followed was like a nightmare fight. He lopped off theslow tentacles that sought to envelop him, he slashed the devils intolong ribbons of writhing jelly, slashed until the substance bluntedthe ax; wiped it clean and leaped into their midst again, hewing untilhe could no longer raise his arm. Then he drew back and surveyed thescene before him. 

It was dreadful enough to drive the last remnants of sanity from hisbrain. For every piece that he had cut from the monsters, everyprotoplasmic ribbon was reorganizing before his eyes into thesemblance of a new creature. Where there had been a score, there werenow five hundred!

Kay ran back to his plane, leaped in, and soared southward. His facewas a grotesque mask of madness, and his cries rang out through theether. 

 * * * * *

The victims were no longer chained to stakes. The Federation, whichalways acted with complete secrecy, had gone one better. It hadengaged electrical engineers, kept them housed in secret places, transported them to Golgotha; and there a vast electrified field hadbeen established, an open space whose boundaries were marked out bypillars of electron steel. 

Between these pillars ran lines of electric force. To attempt to passthem meant--not death, for dead boys and girls were spurned by thedevils--but a violent shock that hurled one backward. 

On this great plain the hundred thousand victims sat huddled in theopen. Food they had none, for no purpose was to be served bymitigating their last agonies. No shelter either, for the sight ofbuildings might delay the final phase. But high above the doomed therefloated the flag of the Federation, on a lofty pole, a touch of ironicsentimentality that had commended itself to some mind at Washington. 

Over a square mile of territory, ringed with jungle the victims lay. The majority of them ringed this terrain; that is to say, attemptingto escape, they had been hurled back by the electrical charge, and, having no strength or will remaining, they had dropped where they hadbeen hurled, and lay in apathetic resignation. 

There had been screams and cries for mercy, and piteous scenes whenthe Government airships had deposited them there and flown away, butnow an intense silence had descended upon the doomed. Resigned totheir fate, they sat or lay in little silent groups, all eyes turnedtoward the gloomy jungle. 

 * * * * *

And everywhere within this jungle a wraith-like mist was forming atthis dawn hour. From a thousand miles around, the devils weremustering for their prey, agglutinating, in order that the meal of onemight become the meal of all. 

Wisps of protoplasmic fog were stealing out through the trees, changing shape every instant, but always advancing: now presenting theappearance of an aligned regiment of huge, shadowy men, now nothingbut a wall of semi-solid vapor. And still, with eyeballs straining intheir sockets, the victims watched. 

Suddenly all were seized with the same spasm of mad terror. Again theyhurled themselves against the electrified lines, and again they werehurled back, masses of boys and girls tumbling against one another, and screaming in one wail that, could it have been heard inWashington, would have driven all insane. Again and again, till theyfell back, panting and helpless. And solidly the wall of devils wascreeping up from every side. 

Ruth Deane, one of the few who had themselves in control, lay somedistance back from the electrified field. From the moment when she wassurprised in her apartment by the Government representatives, she hadknown that there was no hope of escape. 

 * * * * *

She had slipped the ring off her finger, snapped the plastic metal, and attached it to a thread torn from her dress. She had managed toinsert it in the door, hoping that Kay would find it. It would serveas a last message of love to him. 

Every removal of a selected victim was in the nature of a kidnapping. At dead of night her apartment had been opened. She had been orderedto dress. Nothing could be written, no arrangements made. She wasalready considered as one dead. 

She had been hurried out of the upper entrance to the monorail, whichconveyed her in a special car to the landing station. A few minuteslater she had been on her way to join the camp of other victims, ahundred miles away. Within two hours she was on her way southward. 

Stunned by the tragedy, none of the victims had made much of anoutcry. They had been given water by the airship police. No food forboys and girls already dead. Days and nights had passed, and now shewas here, faint from exhaustion, and wondering at the despair shown bythose others. What difference would it make in half an hour? Besides, that Government pamphlet had insisted that this death was painless!

But an immense longing to see Kay once more came over her. There hadbeen a time when she thought she loved Cliff; then Kay had come intoher life, and she had known that other affair was folly. She hadnever told Kay of the bitter scene between Cliff and herself, how hehad raved against Kay and sworn to win her in the end. 

Cliff had calmed down and apologized, and Ruth had never seen himagain. She wished he had not taken it like that. But above all shewanted to see Kay, just to say good-by. 

And she tried to send out her whole heart to him in an unspokenmessage of love that would surely somehow convey itself to him. 

 * * * * *

The wall of devils was creeping up on every side, slowly, lethargically. The monsters took their time, because they knew theywere invincible. The sobs and shrieks had died away. Collected into amass almost as rigid as that of the Earth Giants, the victims waited, palsied as a rabbit that awaits the approach of the serpent. 

A humming overhead. An airplane shooting down from the sky. Rescue?No. Only a solitary pilot, armed with a woodsman's ax. 

Kay drifted down, touched ground, leaped to his feet. Chance hadbrought him within five hundred yards of where Ruth was standing. ButRuth had known who that lone flyer must be. She broke through thethrong; she rushed to meet him. Her arms were around him. 

"Kay, darling Kay!"

"Ruth, dearest!"

"I knew you'd come. "

"I've come to die beside you!"

 * * * * *

It was perhaps odd that it did not enter the head of either as apossibility that Kay should simply place Ruth in the plane and flyaway with here to safety. Had the thought occurred to Kay, he mighthave been tempted. But such black treachery was somethinginconceivable by either. So long as the Federation remained, so longas man moved in an organized society, he was bound to his fellows, tofight, suffer, and die with them. 

"Stand by me, Ruth. We're going down fighting. "

They moved back toward the throng, which, momentarily stirred to hopeby Kay's appearance, had fallen into the former apathy of despair. Andnow the monsters were beginning to enter the electrified zone at onepoint. As they passed the line of posts, the high tension current madetheir bodies luminous, but it had no appreciable effect upon them. They moved on, inevitably. 

A score or so of semi-human forms, agglutinated into a mass, and yetindividually discernible. They bore down slowly upon the crowd ofvictims, who pressed backward as they advanced. On the other sides, though they almost encircled the field of death, the monsters weremaking no maneuvers to entrap their prey. Their sluggish minds wereincapable of conceiving anything of the kind. But for the electrifiedzone, the great majority of the victims could have effected theirescape. The monsters were simply pressing forward to their meal; theydid not interpret its capture in terms of strategy at all. 

 * * * * *

A new frenzy of horror seized the crowd. They fled, struggling backuntil the foremost in flight reached the other side of Golgotha, to berepulsed by the electrified zone there. They fell in tumbled heaps. Appalling shrieks rang through the air. 

Another line of the monsters was seeping forward, converging towardthe first. As the two lines met, they coalesced into a wall ofprotoplasm, a thousand feet in length by a hundred high. A wall out ofwhich leered phantasmal faces, like those in a frieze. 

Kay stood alone, his arm around Ruth. To follow the flying mob wouldbut prolong the agony. He raised the ax. He looked into the girl'seyes. She understood, and nodded. 

One last embrace, one kiss, and Kay placed her behind him. He sprangforward, shouting, and plunged into the very heart of the wall. 

And Ruth, watching with eyes dilated with horror, saw it yield with asucking sound, and saw Kay disappear within it. 

 * * * * *

She saw the hideous mass fold itself upon him, and a hundred extrudedtentacles wave in the air as they blindly grappled for him. And thenKay had broken through, and was hewing madly with great sweeps of theax that slashed great streamers of the amorphous tissue from the wallof protoplasm. 

It recoiled and then folded once more, and Kay's mighty sweeps wereslashing phantom limbs from phantom bodies; and lopping off tentaclesthat curled and coiled, and put forth caricatures of hands andfingers, and then, uniting with other slashed off tentacles, began tomould themselves into the likeness of dwarf monsters. Kay's strugglewas like that of a man fighting a fog, for again and again he brokethrough the wall, and always it reunited. 

And behind it another wall of protoplasm was pressing forward, and onanother side a wall was drifting up. As Kay stopped, panting, andmomentarily free, Ruth saw that they were almost encircled. 

She saw the nature of that fight. Inevitably that wall would closeabout them; and, though the bones of last year's victims had beengathered up and carried away by the Federation, she guessed what wouldoccur. 

She ran to Kay and dragged him back through the closing gap. It metbehind them, and again they stood face to face with the devils. Onlythis time, instead of a wall of protoplasm, it was a veritablemountain that confronted them, and there could be no more breakingthrough. 

Kay thought afterward that the one touch of absolute horror was thatthe reforming monsters, the young ones growing visibly before hiseyes, had the gamboling instinct of young lambs or other creatures. They were much more lively than the parent creatures. 

 * * * * *

By this time perhaps a third of the space within the electrified lineshad been occupied by the devils. The wall was slowly and sluggishlyadvancing, and a fresh infiltration was drifting in on another side. As the victims were pressed closer and closer together in theirflight, half of them seemed to go insane. They raced to and fro, laughing and screaming, flinging their arms aloft in extravagantgestures. One young fellow, rushing across the ground, hurled himselflike a bolt from a catapult into the heart of the grisly mass, whichopened and received him. 

There was a struggle, a convulsion; then the mass moved on. 

Kay wiped his ax. He stood beside Ruth, gathering strength and breathto fight again. What else was there to do?

Suddenly a humming sound came to his ears. Still some little distancefrom the monsters, he glanced back. The victims were shouting, staringupward. Over the tops of the jungle trees Kay saw a second airplaneflying toward them, a larger one than the plane which he had flown. 

It opened its helicopter wings and drifted downward. Kay saw a singlepilot, and, in the baggage compartment something that at first he didnot recognize. Then he recognized both this object and the aviator. 

"It's Cliff, " he whispered hoarsely. "He's brought the top!"

 * * * * *

The crowd was milling about Cliff as he stepped out of the plane. Kaybroke through their midst, shouting to them to clear a space, that itwas their chance, their only chance. They heard him and obeyed. AndCliff and Kay clasped hands, and there was Ruth beside them. 

The two men carried the top out of the baggage compartment and set itup. 

"Thank God I came in time, " Cliff hissed. "How long have we got, Kay?"

"Five minutes, I think, " Kay answered, glancing at the oncoming wall. "They're slow. Will it work, Cliff? God, when I found you'd gone lastnight--"

Cliff did not answer. Ignoring Kay's offer of assistance, he fittedthe top tightly into its socket of craolite, much heavier than theformer one. Beneath this, three heavy craolite legs formed a sort oftripod. 

"I looked forward to this possibility, Kay, " said Cliff, as headjusted the top and turned the clamps that held it in position. "Sorry I had to deceive you, but you we're so set on the cosmic rays, and I knew the psenium emanations wouldn't appeal to you. You wouldn'thave believed. I had a hunch Ruth would draw one of those numbers. .. . _How long?_"

The swaying masses of gray jelly were very near them. Cliff workedfeverishly at the top. 

"Let me help. Cliff!"

"No! I'm through! Stand back!" shouted Cliff. 

 * * * * *

Even then--he regretted it afterward, and knew that he would regret itto his dying day--even then the thought flashed through Kay's mindthat Cliff wanted all the glory. Behind him the milling, screamingcrowd was huddling, as if for protection. Slowly a wisp-like tentacleprotruded from the advancing wall. Kay swung his ax and lopped it fromthe phantom body. But the wall was almost upon them, and from theother side it was advancing rapidly. 

"I'm ready! Stand back!" Cliff turned upon Kay, his face white, hisvoice hoarse. "I've one request to make, Kay. Keep everybody back, including you and Ruth. Nobody is to come within twenty-five yards ofthis machine!"

"That shall be done, " said Kay, a little bitterness in his tone. 

"Ruth, I think I'm going to save you all. " Cliff looked into thegirl's face for a moment. "Please stand back twenty-five yards, " herepeated. 

Kay took Ruth by the arm and drew her back. The crowd moved back, their pressure moving back the vast multitudes behind them. The vastmob was almost packed into the quarter of the Golgotha; there wasscarcely room to move. 

Kay saw Cliff press the lever. 

 * * * * *

Slowly the giant top began to whirl. Faster . .. Faster. .. . Now it wasrevolving so fast that it had become totally invisible. But Cliff wasalmost surrounded by the wall of jelly. Only his back could be seen, and then space was narrowing fast. 

Kay gripped Ruth's arm tightly. He held his breath. The crowd, of whomonly a small part knew what was taking place, was screaming withterror as the mass of jelly on the other side pressed them inexorablybackward. And Cliff had almost vanished. Would the machine work? Wasit possible that the psenium emanations would succeed where theMillikan rays, the W-ray had failed?

Then of a sudden the air grew dark as night. Kay began to sneeze. Hegasped for air. He was choking. He could see nothing, and he strainedRuth to him convulsively, while the terrified multitudes behind himset up a last wail of despair. 

He could see nothing, and he stood with the ax ready for the onset ofthe monsters, more terrible now, in their invisibility, than before. Then of a sudden there sounded subterranean rumblings. The groundseemed to open almost under Kay's feet. 

He leaped back, dragging Ruth with him. Slowly the dust was settling, the darkness lessening. A faint, luminous glow overhead revealed thesun. Kay was aware that Cliff had swung the top, so that the pseniumrays were being brought to bear upon the second mass of the monsterson the other side. 

The sun vanished in appalling blackness. Again the dust-choked air wasalmost unbreathable. The shrieks of the crowd died away in wheezinggasps; and then a wilder clamor began. 

"The earthquake! The earthquake!" a girl was shrilling. "God help usall!"

Kay stood still, clutching Ruth tightly in his arms. He dared notstir, for all the world seemed to be dissolving into chaos. 

 * * * * *

Slowly the dust began to settle again. Perhaps five minutes passedbefore the sunbeams began to struggle through. A cloud of grey duststill obscured everything. But the wall of protoplasm was gone!

Cliff's voice came moaning out of the murk, calling Kay's name. 

Kay moved forward cautiously, still holding Ruth. He seemed to beskirting the edge of a vast crater. At the edge of it he found thetop, revolving slowly. And Cliff's voice came from beside the top. 

"Kay, we've won. Don't look at me. Don't let Ruth see me! Look down!"

Kay looked down into the bottomless pit, extending clear across theplain to the distant jungle. An enormous canyon cloven in the earth, filled with the slowly settling cloud of dust. 

"They're there, Kay. Don't look this way!"

But Kay looked--and could see nothing except a pile of debris, fromthe bottom of which Cliff's voice issued. 

"Cliff, you're not hurt?"

"A--a little. You must listen while I tell you how to clean up themonsters. It's the psenium emanation. It has the same effect when ourmethod is applied to it. It disintegrates everything inorganic--notorganic. 

"I thought, if I couldn't get them, I'd crumble the earth away--burythem. They're underneath the debris, Kay, a mile deep, buried, beneaththe impalpable powder that represented the inorganic salts andminerals of the earth. They'll never get out of that. Protoplasm needsoxygen. They'll trouble us no more. 

"You must take the top, Kay. Use our old method. You'll find itsapplication to the psenium emanation written in a book fastenedbeneath the hood. Wipe out the rest of them. If any more come, you'llknow how to deal with them. "

"Cliff, you're not badly hurt?" Kay asked again. 

"Don't look, I tell you! Keep Ruth away!"

 * * * * *

But the dust was settling fast, and suddenly Ruth uttered a scream offear. 

And a strangled cry broke from Kay's throat as he looked down at whathad been Cliff Hynes. 

The man seemed to have become resolved into the same sort ofprotoplasm as the Earth Giants. He lay, a little heap, incrediblysmall, incredibly distorted. Flesh without bones, shapeless lumps offlesh where arms and legs and body frame should have been. 

Cliff's voice came faintly. "You remember the leakage through therubber and analektron container, Kay. The W-rays even fused thecraolite socket. The psenium rays are stronger. They destroy evenbone. They're fatal to the man who operates the machine, unless hefollows the directions. I've written them out for you, but I had--notime--to apply them. "

His voice broke off. Then, "Good luck to you and--Ruth, Kay, " hewhispered, absent inaudibly. "Don't let--her--look at me. "

Kay led Ruth gently away. "Did you hear that?" she whispered, sobbing. "He died to save us Kay. "

 * * * * *

It was like a return from the grave for the amazed boys and girlswho--since the onset of the monsters had destroyed the electriclines--poured out of the plain of Golgotha to life and freedom. 

Many of them had gone mad, a few had died of fright, but the restwould come back to normal, and the world was saved. 

Hunger was their greatest problem, for, despite Kay's hurried flightto the nearest occupied post, it was difficult to convince theFederation officials that the devils were really gone, buried beneatha mile of crumbled earth. And Kay had to be back to mop up other, smaller bands that had spread through the forests. 

It was six months before the last of the monsters had beenobliterated, and then Kay, now one of the highest officials in theFederation's service, was granted a lunarian's leave of absencepending his taking command of an Antarctic expedition for the purposeof destroying the remaining monsters in their lair. 

He took this opportunity to be married to Ruth, in the church in hisnative town, which was _en fête_ for the occasion. 

"Thinking of Cliff?" Kay asked his bride, as she settled in his planepreparatory to their starting for the honeymoon in the Adirondacks. "Ithink he would be happy if he knew. He saved the world, dear; he gavehis best. And that was all he wanted. "

 * * * * *

[Advertisement: ]

The Pirate Planet

BEGINNING A FOUR-PART NOVEL

_By Charles W. Diffin_

[Illustration: Like rats in a cage, the planes of the 91st Squadronwere darting and whirling. ]

[Sidenote: A strange light blinks on Venus, and over old Earth hoversa mysterious visitant--dread harbinger of interplanetary war. ]

CHAPTER I

Lieutenant McGuire threw open his coat with its winged insignia of theair force and leaned back in his chair to read more comfortably thenewspaper article. 

He glanced at Captain Blake across the table. The captain was deep ina game of solitaire, but he looked up at McGuire's audible chuckle. 

"Gay old girl!" said Lieutenant McGuire and smoothed the paper acrosshis knees. "She's getting flirtatious. "

The captain swore softly as he gathered up his cards. "Notinterested, " he announced; "too hot to-night. Keep her away. "

"Oh, she's far enough away, " McGuire responded; "about seventy millionmiles. Don't get excited. "

"What are you talking about?" The captain shuffled his cardsirritably. 

"Venus. She's winking at us, the old reprobate. One of thesestar-gazers up on Mount Lawson saw the flashes a week or so ago. Ifyou'll cut out your solitaire and listen, I'll read you something toimprove your mind. " He ignored the other's disrespectful remark andheld the paper closer to see the paragraphs. 

"Is Venus Signalling?" inquired the caption which Lieutenant McGuireread. "Professor Sykes of Mt. Lawson Observatory Reports Flashes. 

"The planet Venus, now a brilliant spectacle in the evening sky, isbehaving strangely according to a report from the local observatory onMount Lawson. This sister star, most like Earth of all the planets, isnow at its eastern elongation, showing like a half-moon in the bigtelescopes on Mt. Lawson. Shrouded in impenetrable clouds, its surfacehas never been seen, but something is happening there. Professor Sykesreports seeing a distinct flash of light upon the terminator, ormargin of light. It lasted for several seconds and was not repeated. 

"No explanation of the phenomenon is offered by scientists, asconditions on the planet's surface are unknown. Is there life there?Are the people of Venus trying to communicate? One guess is as good asanother. But it is interesting to recall that our scientists recentlyproposed to send a similar signal from Earth to Mars by firing atremendous flare of magnesium. 

"Venus is now approaching the earth; she comes the nearest of allplanets. Have the Venusians penetrated their cloak of cloud masseswith a visible light? The planet will be watched with increasedinterest as it swings toward us in space, in hope of there being arepetition of the unexplained flash. "

 * * * * *

"There, " said Lieutenant McGuire, "--doesn't that elevate your mind?Take it off this infernally hot night? Carry you out through the coolreaches of interplanetary space? If there is anything else you want toknow, just ask me. "

"Yes, " Captain Blake agree, "there is. I want to know how the gamecame out back in New York--and you don't know that. Let's go over andask the radio man. He probably has the dope. "

"Good idea, " said McGuire; "maybe he has picked up a message fromVenus; we'll make a date. " He looked vainly for the brilliant star asthey walked out into the night. There were clouds of fog from thenearby Pacific drifting high overhead. Here and there stars showedmomentarily, then were blotted from sight. 

The operator in the radio room handed the captain a paper with theday's scores from the eastern games. But Lieutenant McGuire, despitehis ready amusement at the idea, found his thoughts clinging to thewords he had read. "Was the planet communicating?" he pictured thegreat globe--another Earth--slipping silently through space, comingnearer and nearer. 

Did they have radio? he wondered. Would they send recognizablesignals--words--or some mathematical sequence to prove their reality?He turned to the radio operator on duty. 

"Have you picked up anything peculiar, " he asked, and laughed inwardlyat himself for the asking. "Any new dots and dashes? The scientistssay that Venus is calling. You'll have to be learning a new code. "

The man glanced at him strangely and looked quickly away. 

"No, sir, " he said. And added after a pause: "No new dots and dashes. "

"Don't take that stuff too seriously, Mac, " the captain remonstrated. "The day of miracles is past; we don't want to commit you to thepsychopathic ward. Now here is something real: the Giants won, and Ihad ten dollars on them. How shall we celebrate?"

 * * * * *

The radio man was listening intently as they started to leave. Hisvoice was hesitating as he stopped them; he seemed reluctant to puthis thoughts into words. 

"Just a minute, sir, " he said to Captain Blake. 

"Well?" the captain asked. And again the man waited before he replied. Then--

"Lieutenant McGuire asked me, " he began, "if I had heard any strangedots and dashes. I have not; but . .. Well, the fact is, sir, that Ihave been getting some mighty queer sounds for the past few nights. They've got me guessing. 

"If you wouldn't mind waiting. Captain; they're about due now--" Helistened again to some signal inaudible to the others, then hooked uptwo extra head-sets for the officers. 

"It's on now, " he said. "If you don't mind--"

McGuire grinned at the captain as they took up the ear-phones. "Powerof suggestion, " he whispered, but the smile was erased from his lipsas he listened. For in his ear was sounding a weird and wailing note. 

No dots or dashes, as the operator had said, but the signal wasstrong. It rose and fell and wavered into shrill tremolos, a ghostly, unearthly sound, and it kept on and on in a shrill despairing wail. Abruptly it stopped. 

The captain would have removed the receiver from his ear, but theoperator stopped him. "Listen, " he said, "to the answer. "

 * * * * *

There was silence, broken only by an occasional hiss and crackle ofsome far distant mountain storm. Then, faint as a whisper, came ananswering, whistling breath. 

It, too, trembled and quavered. It went up--up--to the limit ofhearing; then slid down the scale to catch and tremble and againascend in endless unvarying ups and downs of sound. It was anotherunbroken, unceasing, but always changing vibration. 

"What in thunder is that?" Captain Blake demanded. 

"Communication of some sort, I should say, " McGuire said slowly, andhe caught the operator's eyes upon him in silent agreement. 

"No letters, " Blake objected; "no breaks; just that screech. " Helistened again. "Darned if it doesn't almost seem to say something, "he admitted. 

"When did you first hear this?" he demanded of the radio man. 

"Night before last, sir. I did not report it. It seemed too--too--"

"Quite so, " said Captain Blake in understanding, "but it is some formof broadcasting on a variable wave; though how a thing like that canmake sense--"

"They talk back and forth, " said the operator; "all night, most. Notice the loud one and the faint one; two stations sending andanswering. "

Captain Blake waved him to silence. "Wait--wait!" he ordered. "It'sgrowing louder!"

 * * * * *

In the ears of the listening men the noise dropped to a loud grumble; roseto a piercing shriek; wavered and leaped rapidly from note to note. It wasincreasing; rushing upon them with unbearable sound. The sense of somethingapproaching, driving toward them swiftly, was strong upon LieutenantMcGuire. He tore the head-phones from his ears and rushed to the door. Thecaptain was beside him. Whoever--whatever--was sending that mysterioussignal was coming near--but was that nearness a matter of miles or ofthousands of miles?

They stared at the stormy night sky above. A moon was glowing faintlybehind scudding clouds, and the gray-black of flying shadows formed anopening as they watched, a wind-blown opening like a doorway to theinfinity beyond, where, blocking out the stars, was a something thatbrought a breath-catching shout from the watching men. 

Some five thousand feet up in the night was a gleaming ship. Therewere rows of portholes that shone twinkling against the blacksky--portholes in multiple rows on the side. The craft wasinconceivably huge. Formless and dim of outline in the darkness, itsvast bulk was unmistakable. 

And as they watched with staring, incredulous eyes, it seemed to takealarm as if it sensed the parting of its concealing cloud blanket. Itshot with dizzy speed and the roar of a mighty meteor straight up intothe night. The gleam of its twinkling lights merged to a distant starthat dwindled, shrank and vanished in the heights. 

The men were wordless and open-mouthed. They stared at each other indisbelief of what their eyes had registered. 

"A liner!" gasped Captain Blake. "A--a--liner! Mac, there is no suchthing. "

 * * * * *

McGuire pointed where the real cause of their visitor's departureappeared. A plane with engine wide open came tearing down through theclouds. It swung in a great spiral down over the field and dropped awhite flare as it straightened away; then returned for the landing. Ittaxied at reckless speed toward the hangars and stopped a shortdistance from the men. The pilot threw himself out of the cockpit andraced drunkenly toward them. 

"Did you see it?" he shouted, his voice a cracked scream. "Did you seeit?"

"We saw it, " said Captain Blake; "yes, we saw it. Big as--" He soughtvainly for a proper comparison, then repeated his former words: "Bigas an ocean liner!"

The pilot nodded; he was breathing heavily. 

"Any markings?" asked his superior. "Anything to identify it?"

"Yes, there were markings, but I don't know what they mean. There wasa circle painted on her bow and marks like clouds around it, but Ididn't have time to see much. I came out of a cloud, and there thething was. I was flying at five thousand, and they hung there deadahead. I couldn't believe it; it was monstrous; tremendous. Then theysighted me, I guess, and they up-ended that ship in mid-air and shotstraight up till they were out of sight. "

It was the captain's turn to nod mutely. 

"There's your miracle, " said Lieutenant McGuire softly. 

"Miracle is right, " agreed Captain Blake; "nothing less! But it is nomiracle of ours, and I am betting it doesn't mean any good to us. Someother country has got the jump on us. "

To the pilot he ordered: "Say nothing of this--not a word--get that?Let me have a written report: full details, but concise as possible. "

He went back to the radio room, and the operator there received thesame instructions. 

"What are you going to do?" the lieutenant questioned. 

Captain Blake was reaching for a head-set. "Listen in, " he saidbriefly; "try to link up that impossible ship with those messages, then report at once to the colonel and whoever he calls in. I'll wantyou along, Mac, to swear I am sober. "

 * * * * *

He had a head-set adjusted, and McGuire took up the other. Again theroom was still, and again from the far reaches of space the dark nightsent to them its quavering call. 

The weird shrillness cried less loudly now, and the men listened instrained silence to the go and come of that variable shriek. Musicalat times as it leaped from one clear note to another, again it wouldmerge into discordant blendings of half-tones that sent shivers ofnervous reaction up the listeners' spines. 

"Listen, " said McGuire abruptly. "Check me on this. There are two ofthem, one loud and one faint--right?"

"Right, " said Captain Blake. 

"Now notice the time intervals--there! The faint one stops, and thebig boy cuts in immediately. No waiting; he answers quickly. He doesit every time. "

"Well?" the captain asked. 

"Listen when he stops and see how long before the faint one answers. Call the loud one the ship and the faint one the station. .. . There!The ship is through!"

There was pause; some seconds elapsed before the answer that whisperedso faintly in their ears came out of the night. 

"You are right, sir, " the operator said in corroboration of McGuire'sremark. "There is that wait every time. "

"The ship answers at once, " said McGuire; "the station only after await. "

"Meaning--?" inquired the captain. 

"Meaning, as I take it, that there is time required for the message togo from the ship to the station and for them to reply. "

"An appreciable time like that, " Captain Blake exclaimed, "--withradio! Why, a few seconds, even, would carry it around the world ascore of times!"

Lieutenant McGuire hesitated a moment. "It happens every time, " hereminded the captain: "it is no coincidence. And if that other stationis out in space--another ship perhaps, relaying the messages to yetothers between here and--Venus, let us say. .. . "

 * * * * *

He left the thought unfinished. Captain Blake was staring at him asone who beholds a fellow-man suddenly insane. But the look in his eyeschanged slowly, and his lips that had been opened in remonstrance camegradually in a firm, straight line. 

"Crazy!" he said, but it was apparent that he was speaking as much tohimself as to McGuire. "Plumb, raving crazy!. .. Yet that ship _did_ gostraight up out of sight--an acceleration in the upper air beyondanything we know. It might be--" And he, too, stopped at the actualvoicing of the wild surmise. He shook his head sharply as if to rid itof intruding, unwelcome thoughts. 

"Forget that!" he told McGuire, and repeated it in a less commandingtone. "Forget it, Mac: we've got to render a report to sane men, youand I. What we know will be hard enough for them to believe withoutany wild guesses. 

"That new craft is real. It has got it all over us for size and speedand potential offensive action. Who made it? Who mans it? Red Russia?Japan? That's what the brass hats will be wondering; that's what theywill want to find out. 

"Not a word!" he repeated to the radio man. "You will keep mum onthis. "

He took McGuire with him as he left to seek out his colonel. But itwas a disturbed and shaken man, instead of the cool, methodicalCaptain Blake of ordinary days, who went in search of his commandingofficer. And he clung to McGuire for corroboration of his impossiblestory. 

 * * * * *

There was a group of officers to whom Blake made his full report. Colonel Boynton had heard but little when he halted his subordinatecurtly and reached for a phone. And his words over that instrumentbrought a quick conference of officers and a quiet man whom McGuiredid not recognize. The "brass hats, " as Blake had foreseen, were avidfor details. 

The pilot of the incoming plane was there, too, and the radio man. Their stories were told in a disconcerting silence, broken only bysome officer's abrupt and skeptical question on one point and another. 

"Now, for heaven's sake, shut up about Venus, " McGuire had been told. But he did not need Captain Blake's warning to hold himself strictlyto what he had seen and let the others draw their own conclusions. 

Lieutenant McGuire was the last one to speak. There was silence in theoffice of Colonel Boynton as he finished, a silence that almost echoedfrom the grim walls. And the faces of the men who gathered there werecarefully masked from any expression that might betray their thoughts. 

It was the quiet man in civilian attire who spoke first. He sat besideanother whose insignia proclaimed him of general's rank, but headdressed himself to Colonel Boynton. 

"I am very glad, " he said quietly, "very glad. Colonel, that myunofficial visit came at just this time. I should like to ask some fewquestions. "

Colonel Boynton shifted the responsibility with a gesture almost ofrelief. "It is in your hands. Mr. Secretary, " he said. "You andGeneral Clinton have dropped in opportunely. There is something herethat will tax all our minds. "

The man in civilian clothes nodded assent. He turned to Captain Blake. 

"Captain, " he said, "you saw this at first hand. You have told us whatyou saw. I should like greatly to know what you think. Will you giveus your opinion, your impressions?"

 * * * * *

The captain arose smartly, but his words came with less ease. 

"My opinion, " he stated, "will be of little value, but it is basedupon these facts. I have seen to-night, sir, a new type of aircraft, with speed, climb and ceiling beyond anything we are capable of. Ican only regard it as a menace. It may or may not have been armed, butit had the size to permit the armament of a cruiser; it had power tocarry that weight. It hung stationary in the air, so it is independentof wing-lift, yet it turned and shot upward like a feather in a gale. That spells maneuverability. 

"That combination, sir, can mean only that we are out-flown, out-maneuvered and out-fought in the air. It means that the planes inour hangars are obsolete, our armament so much old iron. 

"The menace is potential at present. Whether it is an actual threat ornot is another matter. Who mans that ship--what country's insignia shecarries--is something on which I can have no opinion. The power isthere: who wields it I wish we knew. "

The questioner nodded at the conclusion of Blake's words, and heexchanged quiet, grave glances with the general beside him. Then--

"I think we all would wish to know that, Captain Blake, " he observed. And to the colonel: "You may be able to answer that soon. It would bemy idea that this craft should be--ah--drawn out, if we can do it. Wewould not attack it, of course, until its mission is proved definitelyunfriendly, but you will resist any offensive from them. 

"And now, " he added, "let us thank these officers for their ablereports and excuse them. We have much to discuss. .. . "

 * * * * *

Captain Blake took McGuire's arm as they went out into the night. Andhe drew him away where they walked for silent minutes by themselves. The eyes of Lieutenant McGuire roamed upward to the scudding cloudsand the glimpse of far, lonely stars; he stumbled occasionally as hewalked. But for Captain Blake there was thought only of mattersnearby. 

"The old fox!" he exclaimed. "Didn't he 'sic us on' neatly? If we mixit with that stranger there will be no censure from the Secretary ofWar. "

"I assumed that was who it was, " said McGuire. "Well, they havesomething to think about, that bunch; something to study over. .. . Perhaps more than they know. 

"And that's their job, " he concluded after a silence. "I'm going tobed; but I would like a leave of absence to-morrow if that's O. K. "

"Sure, " said Captain Blake, "though I should think you would like tostick around. Perhaps we will see something. What's on your mind, Mac?"

"A little drive to the top of Mount Lawson, " said Lieutenant McGuire. "I want to talk to a bird named Sykes. "

CHAPTER II

Lieutenant McGuire, U. S. A. , was not given as a usual thing to vainconjectures, nor did his imagination carry him beyond the practicalboundaries of accepted facts. Yet his mind, as he drove for hoursthrough the orange-scented hills of California, reverted time andagain to one persistent thought. And it was with him still, even whenhe was consciously concentrating on the hairpin turns of MountLawson's narrow road. 

There was a picture there, printed indelibly in his mind--a picture ofa monstrous craft, a liner of the air, that swung its glowing lightsin a swift arc and, like a projectile from some huge gun, shot up andup and still up until it vanished in a jet-black sky. Its altitudewhen it passed from sight he could not even guess, but the sense ofever-increasing speed, of power that mocked at gravitation's punyforce, had struck deep into his mind. And McGuire saw plainly thismystery ship going on and on far into the empty night where man hadnever been. 

No lagging in that swift flight that he had seen; an acceleration thatthrew the ship faster and yet faster, regardless of the thin air andthe lessened buoyancy in an ocean of atmosphere that held man-mademachines so close to Earth. That constant acceleration, hour afterhour, day after day--the speed would be almost unlimited;inconceivable!

He stopped his car where the mountain road held straight for a hundredfeet, and he looked out over the coastal plain spread like a toy worldfar below. 

"Now, how about it?" he asked himself. "Blake thinks I am making afool of myself. Perhaps I am. I wonder. It's a long time since I fellfor any fairy stories. But this thing has got me. A sort of hunch, Iguess. "

 * * * * *

The sun was shining now from a vault of clear blue. It was lighting aworld of reality, of houses where people lived their commonplacelives, tiny houses squared off in blocks a mile below. There was smokehere and there from factories; it spread in a haze, and it meantboilers and engines and sound practical machinery of a practical worldto the watching man. 

What had all this to do with Venus? he asked himself. This was theworld he knew. It was real; space was impenetrable; there were no menor beings of any sort that could travel through space. Blake wasright: he was on a fool's errand. They couldn't tell him anything uphere at the observatory; they would laugh at him as he deserved. .. . 

Wondering vaguely if there was a place to turn around, he looked aheadand then up; his eyes passed from the gash of roadway on themountainside to the deep blue beyond. And within the man some driving, insistent, mental force etched strongly before his eyes that pictureand its problem unanswered. There was the ship--he saw it inmemory--and it went up and still up; and he knew as surely as if hehad guided the craft that the meteor-like flight could be endless. 

Lieutenant McGuire could not reason it out--such power was beyond hisimagining--but suddenly he dared to believe, and he knew it was true. 

"Earthbound!" he said in contempt of his own human kind, and he lookedagain at the map spread below. "Ants! Mites! That's what weare--swarming across the surface of the globe. And we think we're sodamn clever if we lift ourselves up a few miles from the surface!

"Guess I'll see Sykes, " he muttered aloud. "He and his kind at leastdare to look out into space; take their eyes off the world; beimpractical!"

He swung the car slowly around the curve ahead, eased noiselessly intosecond gear and went on with the climb. 

 * * * * *

There were domed observatories where he stopped: rounded structuresthat gleamed silvery in the air; and offices, laboratories: it was aplace of busy men. And Professor Sykes, he found, was busy. But hespared a few minutes to answer courteously the questions of this slimyoung fellow in the khaki uniform of the air service. 

"What can I do for you?" asked Professor Sykes. 

"No dreamer, this man, " thought McGuire as he looked at the short, stocky figure of the scientist. Clear eyes glanced sharply from undershaggy brows; there were papers in his hand scrawled over with strangemathematical symbols. 

"You can answer some fool questions, " said Lieutenant McGuireabruptly, "if you don't mind. "

The scientist smiled broadly. "We're used to that, " he told the youngofficer; "you can't think of any worse ones than those we have heard. Have a chair. "

McGuire drew a clipping from his pocket--it was the newspaper accounthe had read--and he handed it to Professor Sykes. 

"I came to see you about this, " he began. 

The lips of Professor Sykes lost their genial curve; they straightenedto a hard line. "Nothing for publication, " he said curtly. "As usualthey enlarged upon the report and made assumptions and inferences notwarranted by facts. "

"But you did see that flash?"

"By visual observation I saw a bright area formed on theterminator--yes! We have no photographic corroboration. "

"I am wondering what it meant. "

"That is your privilege--and mine, " said the scientist coldly. 

"But it said there, " McGuire persisted, "that it might have been asignal of some sort. "

"_I_ did not say so: that is an inference only. I have told you, Lieutenant"--he glanced at the card in his hand--"--LieutenantMcGuire--all that I know. We deal in facts up here, and we leave thebrilliant theorizing to the journalists. "

 * * * * *

The young officer felt distinctly disconcerted. He did not knowexactly what he had expected from this man--what corroboration of hiswild surmises--but he was getting nowhere, he admitted. And heresented the cold aloofness of the scientist before him. 

"I am not trying to pin you down on anything, " he said, and his tonecarried a hint of the nervous strain that had been his. "I am tryingto learn something. "

"Just what?" the other inquired. 

"Could that flash have been a signal?"

"You may think so if you wish: I have told you all that I know. Andnow, " he added, and rose from his chair, "I must ask to be excused; Ihave work to do. "

McGuire came slowly to his feet. He had learned nothing; perhaps therewas nothing to be learned. A fool's errand! Blake was right. But theinner urge for some definite knowledge drove him on. His eyes wereserious and his face drawn to a scowl of earnestness as he turned oncemore to the waiting man. 

"Professor Sykes, " he demanded, "just one more question. Could thathave been the flash of a--a rocket? Like the proposed experiments inGermany. Could it have meant in any way the launching of aprojectile--a ship--to travel Earthward through space?"

 * * * * *

Professor Sykes knew what it was to be harassed by the curious mob, toavoid traps set by ingenious reporters, but he knew, too, when he wasmeeting with honest bewilderment and a longing for knowledge. Hisfists were placed firmly on the hips of his stocky figure as he stoodlooking at the persistent questioner, and his eyes passed from theintent face to the snug khaki coat and the spread wings thatproclaimed the wearer's work. A ship out of space--a projectile--thisyoung man had said. 

"Lieutenant, " he suggested quietly--and again the smile had returnedto his lips as he spoke--"sit down. I'm not as busy as I pretend tobe. Now tell me: what in the devil have you got in your mind?"

And McGuire told him. "Like some of your dope, " he said, "this is notfor publication. But I have not been instructed to hush it up, and Iknow you will keep it to yourself. "

He told the clear-eyed, listening man of the previous night's events. Of the radio's weird call and the mystery ship. 

"Hallucination, " suggested the scientist. "You saw the stars veryclearly, and they suggested a ship. "

"Tell that to Jim Burgess, " said McGuire: "he was the pilot of thatplane. " And the scientist nodded as if the answer were what heexpected. 

He asked again about the ship's flight. And he, too, bore down heavilyupon the matter of acceleration in the thin upper air. He rose to laya friendly hand on McGuire's shoulder. 

"We can't know what it means, " he said, "but we can form our owntheories, you and I--and anything is possible. 

"It is getting late, " he added, "and you have had a long drive. Comeover and eat; spend the night here. Perhaps you would like to have alook at our equipment--see Venus for yourself. I will be observing herthrough the sixty-inch refractor to-night. Would you care to?"

"Would I?" McGuire demanded with enthusiasm. "Say, that will begreat!"

 * * * * *

The sun was dropping toward the horizon when the two men again cameout into the cool mountain air. 

"Just time for a quick look around, " suggested Professor Sykes, "ifyou are interested. "

He took the lieutenant first to an enormous dome that bulged highabove the ground, and admitted him to the dark interior. They climbeda stairway and came out into a room that held a skeleton frame ofsteel. "This is the big boy, " said Professor Sykes, "the onehundred-inch reflector. "

There were other workers there, one a man standing upon a raisedplatform beside the steel frame, who arranged big holders forphotographic plates. The slotted ceiling opened as McGuire watched, and the whole structure swung slowly around. It was still, and thetowering steel frame began to swing noiselessly when a man at a desktouched various controls. McGuire looked about him in bewilderment. 

"Quite a shop, " he admitted; "but where is the telescope?"

Professor Sykes pointed to the towering latticework of steel. "Rightthere, " he said. "Like everyone else, you were expecting to see a bigtube. "

He explained in simple words the operation of the great instrumentthat brought in light rays from sources millions of light years away. He pointed out where the big mirror was placed--the one hundred-inchreflector--and he traced for the wondering man the pathway of lightthat finally converged upon a sensitized plate to catch and recordwhat no eye had ever seen. 

He checked the younger man's flow of questions and turned him backtoward the stairs. "We will leave them to their work, " he said; "theywill be gathering light that has been traveling millions of years onits ways. But you and I have something a great deal nearer to study. "

 * * * * *

Another building held the big refractor, and it was a matter of only afew seconds and some cryptic instructions from Sykes until theeye-piece showed the image of the brilliant planet. 

"The moon!" McGuire exclaimed in disappointed tones when the professormotioned him to see for himself. His eyes saw a familiar half-circleof light. 

"Venus, " the professor informed him. "It has phases like the moon. Theplanet is approaching; the sun's light strikes it from the side. " ButMcGuire hardly heard. He was gazing with all his faculties centeredupon that distant world, so near to him now. 

"Venus, " he whispered half aloud. Then to the professor: "It's allhazy. There are no markings--"

"Clouds, " said the other. "The goddess is veiled; Venus is blanketedin clouds. What lies underneath we may never know, but we do know thatof all the planets this is most like the earth; most probably is aninhabited world. Its size, its density, your weight if you werethere--and the temperature under the sun's rays about double that ofours. Still, the cloud envelope would shield it. "

McGuire was fascinated, and his thoughts raced wildly in speculationof what might be transpiring before his eyes. People, living in thattropical world; living and going through their daily routine underthat cloud-filled sky where the sun was never seen. The margin oflight that made the clear shape of a half-moon marked their daylightand dark; there was one small dot of light forming just beyond thatmargin. It penetrated the dark side. And it grew, as he watched, to abright patch. 

"What is that?" he inquired abstractedly--his thoughts were stillfilled with those beings of his imagination. "There is a light thatextends into the dark part. It is spreading--"

 * * * * *

He found himself thrust roughly aside as Professor Sykes applied amore understanding eye to the instrument. 

The professor whirled abruptly to his assistant. "Phone ProfessorGiles, " he said sharply; "he is working on the reflector. Tell him toget a photograph of Venus at once; the cloud envelope is broken. " Hereturned hurriedly to his observations. One hand sketched on a waitingpad. 

"Markings!" he said exultantly. "If it would only hold!. .. There, itis closing . .. Gone. .. . "

His hand was quiet now upon the paper, but where he had marked was acrude sketch of what might have been an island. It was "L" shaped;sharply bent. 

"Whew!" breathed Professor Sykes and looked up for a moment. "Now thatwas interesting. "

"You saw through?" asked McGuire eagerly. "Glimpsed the surface?--anisland?"

The scientist's face relaxed. "Don't jump to conclusions, " he told theaviator: "we are not ready to make a geography of Venus quite yet. Butwe shall know that mark if we ever see it again. I hardly think theyhad time to get a picture. 

 * * * * *

"And now there is only a matter of three hours for observation: I mustwatch every minute. Stay here if you wish. But, " he added, "don't letyour imagination run wild. Some eruption, perhaps, this we haveseen--an ignition of gasses in the upper air--who knows? But don'tconnect this with your mysterious ship. If the ship is a menace, if itmeans war, that is your field of action, not mine. And you will befighting with someone on Earth. It must be that some country hasgained a big lead in aeronautics. Now I must get to work. "

"I'll not wait, " said McGuire. "I will start for the field; get thereby daylight, if I can find my way down that road in the dark. "

"Thanks a lot. " He paused a moment before concluding slowly: "And inspite of what you say, Professor, I believe that we will havesomething to get together on again in this matter. "

The scientist, he saw, had turned again to his instrument. McGuirepicked his way carefully along the narrow path that led where he hadparked his car. "Good scout, this Sykes!" he was thinking, and hestopped to look overhead in the quick-gathering dark at thatlaboratory of the heavens, where Sykes and his kind delved and probed, measured and weighed, and gathered painstakingly the messages fromsuns beyond counting, from universe out there in space that addedtheir bit of enlightenment to the great story of the mystery ofcreation. 

He was humbly aware of his own deep ignorance as he backed his car, slipped it into second, and began the long drive down the tortuousgrade. He would have liked to talk more with Sykes. But he had nothought as he wound round the curves how soon that wish was to begratified. 

 * * * * *

Part way down the mountainside he again checked his car where he hadstopped on the upward climb and reasoned with himself about hiserrand. Once more he looked out over the level ground below, a vastglowing expanse of electric lights now, that stretched to the oceanbeyond. He was suddenly unthrilled by this man-made illumination, andhe got out of his car to stare again at the blackness above and itsmyriad of stars that gathered and multiplied as he watched. 

One brighter than the rest winked suddenly out. There was aconstellation of twinkling lights that clustered nearby, and they toovanished. The eyes of the watcher strained themselves to see moreclearly a dim-lit outline. There were no lights: it was a blackshape, lost in the blackness of the mountain sky, that was blockingout the stars. But it was a shape, and from near the horizon the palegleams of the rising moon picked it out in softest of outline; a vagueghost of a curve that reflected a silvery contour to the watching eyesbelow. 

There had been a wider space in the road that McGuire had passed; hebacked carefully till he could swing his car and turn it to head oncemore at desperate speed toward the mountain top. And it was less thanan hour since he had left when he was racing back along the narrowfootpath to slam open the door where Professor Sykes looked up inamazement at his abrupt return. 

The aviator's voice was hoarse with excitement as he shouted: "It'shere--the ship! It's here! Where's your phone?--I must call the field!It's right overhead--descending slowly--no lights, but I saw it--I sawit!"

He was working with trembling fingers at the phone where Sykes hadpointed. "Long distance!" he shouted. He gave a number to theoperator. "Make it quick, " he implored. "Quick!"

CHAPTER III

Back at Maricopa Flying Field the daily routine had been disturbed. There were conferences of officers, instructions from Colonel Boynton, and a curiosity-provoking lack of explanations. Only with CaptainBlake did the colonel indulge in any discussion. 

"We'll keep this under our hats, " he said, "and out of the newspapersas long as we can. You can imagine what the yellow journals would dowith a scarehead like that. Why, they would have us all wiped off themap and the country devastated by imaginary fleets in the first threeparagraphs. "

Blake regarded his superior gravely. "I feel somewhat the same way, myself. Colonel, " he admitted. "When I think what this can mean--someother country so far ahead of us in air force that we are back in thedark ages--well, it doesn't look any too good to me if they meantrouble. "

"We will meet it when it comes, " said Colonel Boynton. "But, betweenourselves, I am in the same state of mind. 

"The whole occurrence is so damn mysterious. Washington hasn't awhisper of information of any such construction; the Secretaryadmitted that last night. It's a surprise, a complete surprise, toeveryone. 

"But, Blake, you get that new ship ready as quickly as you can. Prepare for an altitude test the same as we planned, but get into theair the first minute possible. She ought to show a better ceiling thananything we have here, and you may have to fly high to say 'Goodmorning' to that liner you saw. Put all the mechanics on it that canwork to advantage. I think they have it pretty well along now. "

"Engine's tested and installed, sir, " was Blake's instant report. "Ithink I can take it up this afternoon. "

 * * * * *

He left immediately to hurry to the hangar where a new plane stoodglistening in pristine freshness, and where hurrying mechanicsgrumbled under their breaths at the sudden rush for a ship that wasexpected to take the air a week later. 

An altitude test under full load! Well, what of it? they demanded oneof another; wouldn't another day do as well as this one? And theyworked as they growled, worked with swift sureness and skill, and thefinal instruments took their place in the ship that she might rollfrom the hangar complete under that day's sun. 

Her supercharger was tested--the adjunct to a powerful engine thatwould feed the hungry cylinders with heavy air up in the heights wherethe air is thin; there were oxygen flasks to keep life in the pilot inthe same thin air. And the hot southern sun made ludicrous thatafternoon the bulky, heavily-wrapped figure of Captain Blake as hesat at the controls and listened approvingly to the roaring engine. 

He waved good-by and smiled understandingly as he met the eyes ofColonel Boynton; then pulled on his helmet, settled himself in hisseat and took off in a thunderous blast of sound to begin his longascent. 

 * * * * *

He had long since cracked open the valve of his oxygen flask when theclimb was ended, and his goggles were frosted in the arctic cold sothat it was only with difficulty he could read his instrument board. 

"That's the top, " he thought in that mind so light and so curiouslynot his own. He throttled the engine and went into a long spiral thatwas to end within a rod of where he had started on the brown sun-bakedfield. The last rays of the sun were slanting over distant mountainsas he climbed stiffly from the machine. 

"Better than fifty thousand, " exulted Colonel Boynton. "Of course yourbarograph will have to be calibrated and verified, but it looks like arecord, Blake--and you had a full load. 

"Ready to go up and give merry hell to that other ship if she showsup?" he asked. But Captain Blake shook a dubious head. 

"Fifty thousand is just a start for that bird, " he said. "You didn'tsee them shoot out of sight, Colonel. Lord knows when they quit_their_ climb--or where. "

"Well, we'll just have a squadron ready in any event, " the colonelassured him. "We will make him show his stuff or take a beating--ifthat is what he wants. "

They were in the colonel's office. "You had better go and get warmedup, " he told the flyer: "then come back here for instructions. " ButBlake was more anxious for information than for other comforts. 

"I'm all right, " he said: "just tired a bit. Let me stretch out here, Colonel, and give me the dope on what you expect of our visitor andwhat we will do. "

 * * * * *

He settled back comfortably in a big chair. The office was warm, andBlake knew now he had been doing a day's work. 

"We will just take it as it comes, " Colonel Boynton explained. "Ican't for the life of me figure why the craft was spying around here. What are they looking for? We haven't any big secrets the whole worlddoesn't know. 

"Of course he may not return. But if he does I want you to go up andgive him the once over. I can trust you to note every significantdetail. 

"You saw no wings. If it is a dirigible, let's know something of theirpower and how they can throw themselves up into the air the way youdescribed. Watch for anything that may serve to identify it and itsprobable place of manufacture--any peculiarity of marking or design orconstruction that may give us a lead. Then return and report. "

Blake nodded his understanding of what was wanted, but his mind was onfurther contingencies: he wanted definite instructions. 

"And, " he asked; "if they attack--what then? Is their fire to bereturned?"

"If they make one single false move, " said Colonel Boynton savagely, "give them everything you've got. And the 91st Squadron will be offthe ground to support you at the first sign of trouble. We don't wantto start anything, nor appear to do so. But, by the gods, Blake, thisfellow means trouble eventually as sure as you're a flyer, and wewon't wait for him to ask for it twice. "

 * * * * *

They sat in silence, while the field outside became shrouded in night. And they speculated, as best they could from the few facts they had, as to what this might mean to the world, to their country, tothemselves. It was an hour before Blake was aware of the fact that hewas hungry. 

He rose to leave, but paused while Colonel Boynton answered the phone. The first startled exclamation held him rigid while he tried to piecetogether the officer's curt responses and guess at what was beingtold. 

"Colonel Boynton speaking. .. . McGuire?. .. Yes, Lieutenant. .. . OverMount Lawson?. .. Yes--yes, the same ship, I've no doubt. "

His voice was even and cool in contrast to the excited tones thatcarried faintly to Blake standing by. 

"Quite right!" he said shortly. "You will remain where you are: act asobserver: hold this line open and keep me informed. Captain Blake willleave immediately for observation. A squadron will follow. Let me knowpromptly what you see. "

He turned abruptly to the waiting man. 

"It is back!" he said. "We're in luck! Over the observatories at MountLawson; descending, so Lieutenant McGuire says. Take the same ship youhad up to-day. Look them over--get up close--good luck!" He turnedagain to the phone. 

There were planes rolling from their hangars before Blake could reachhis own ship. Their engines were thundering: men were rushing acrossthe field, pulling on leather helmets and coats as they ran--all thiswhile he warmed up his engine. 

A mechanic thrust in a package of sandwiches and a thermos of coffeewhile he waited. And Captain Blake grinned cheerfully and gulped thelast of his food as he waved to the mechanics to pull out the wheelblocks. He opened the throttle and shot out into the dark. 

He climbed and circled the field, saw the waving motion of lights inred and green that marked the take-off of the planes of the 91st, andhe straightened out on a course that in less than two hours wouldbring him over the heights of Mount Lawson and the mystery thatawaited him there. And he fingered the trigger grip that was part ofthe stick and nodded within his dark cockpit at the rattle of amachine gun that merged its staccato notes with the engine's roar. 

But he felt, as he thought of that monster shape, as some primordialman might have felt, setting forth with a stone in his hand to wagewar on a saurian beast. 

CHAPTER IV

If Colonel Boynton could have stood with one of his lieutenants andProfessor Sykes on a mountain top, he would have found, perhaps, theanswer to his question. He had wondered in a puzzled fashion why thegreat ship had shown its mysterious presence over the flying field. Hehad questioned whether it was indeed the field that had been theobject of their attention or whether in the cloudy murk they hadmerely wandered past. Could he have seen with the eyes of LieutenantMcGuire the descent of the great shape over Mount Lawson, he wouldhave known beyond doubt that here was the magnet that drew the eyes ofwhatever crew was manning the big craft. 

It was dark where the two men stood. Others had come running at theircall, but their forms, too, were lost in the shadows of the toweringpines. The light from an open door struck across an open space beyondwhich McGuire and Professor Sykes stood alone, stood silent andspellbound, their heads craned back at a neck-wrenching angle. Theywere oblivious to all discomforts; their eyes and their whole mindswere on the unbelievable thing in the sky. 

Beyond the fact that no lights were showing along the hull, there wasno effort at concealment. The moon was up now to illumine the scene, and it showed plainly the gleaming cylinder with its long body andblunt, shining ends, dropping, slowly, inexorably down. 

"Like a dirigible, " said McGuire huskily. "But the size, man--thesize! And its shape is not right; it isn't streamlined correctly; theair--" He stopped his half-unconscious analysis abruptly. "The air!"What had this craft to do with the air? A thin layer of gas that hungclose to the earth--the skin on an apple! And beyond--space! There wasthe ethereal ocean in which this great shape swam!

The reality of the big ship, the very substance of it, made the spaceship idea the harder to grasp. Lieutenant McGuire found that it waseasier to see an imaginary craft taking off into space than toconceive of this monstrous shape, many hundreds of tons in weight, being thrown through vast emptiness. Yet he knew; he knew!

And his mind was a chaos of grim threats and forebodings as he lookedat the unbelievable reality and tried to picture what manner of menwere watching, peering, from those rows of ports. 

 * * * * *

At last it was motionless. It hung soundless and silent except for asoft roar, a scant thousand feet in the air. And its huge bulk wasdwarfing the giant pines, the rounded buildings; it threw the men'sfamiliar surroundings into a new and smaller scale. 

He had many times flown over these mountains, and Lieutenant McGuirehad seen the silvery domes of the observatories shining among thetrees. Like fortresses for aerial defense, he had thought, and thememory returned to him now. What did these new-comers think of them?Had they, too, found them suggestive of forts on the frontier of aworld, defenses against invasion from out there? Or did they know themfor what they were? Did they wish only to learn the extent of ourknowledge, our culture? Were they friendly, perhaps?--half-timid andfearful of what they might find?

A star moved in the sky, a pin-point of light that was plain in itsmessage to the aviator. It was Blake, flying high, volplaning to makecontact and learn from the air what this stranger might mean. Thelight of his plane slanted down in an easy descent; the flyer wasgliding in on a long aerial toboggan slide. His motor was throttled;there was only the whistle of torn air on the monoplane's wings. McGuire was with the captain in his mind, and like him he was waitingfor whatever the stranger might do. 

Other lights were clustered where the one plane had been. The men ofthe 91st had their orders, and the fingers of the watching, silent mangripped an imaginary stick while he wished with his whole heart thathe was up in the air. To be with Blake or the others! His thoughtswhipped back to the mysterious stranger: the great shape was inmotion: it rose sharply a thousand feet in the air. 

 * * * * *

The approaching plane showed clear in the moon's light. It swung andbanked, and the vibrant song of its engine came down to the men asBlake swept in a great circle about the big ship. He was looking itover, but he began his inspection at a distance, and the orbit of hisplane made a tightening spiral as he edged for a closer look. He wasstill swinging in the monotonous round when the ship made its firstforward move. 

It leaped in the air: it swept faster and faster. And it was movingwith terrific speed as it crashed silently through the path of thetiny plane. And Blake, as he leaned forward on the stick to throw hisplane downward in a power dive, could have had a vision, not of a shipof the air, but only of a shining projectile as the great monstershrieked overhead. 

McGuire trembled for the safety of those wings as he saw Blake pullhis little ship out of the dive and shoot upward to a straight climb. 

But--"That's dodging them!" he exulted: "that's flying! I wonder, didthey mean to wipe him out or were they only scared off?"

His question was answered as, out of the night, a whistling shriekproclaimed the passage of the meteor ship that drove unmistakably atthe lone plane. And again the pilot with superb skill waited until thelast moment and threw himself out of the path of the oncoming mass, though his own plane was tossed and whirled like an autumn leaf in thevortex that the enemy created. Not a second was lost as Blake openedhis throttle and forced his plane into a steep climb. 

"Atta-boy!" said McGuire, as if words could span across to the man inthe plane. "Altitude, Blake--get altitude!"

The meteor had turned in a tremendous circle; so swift its motion thatit made an actual line of light as the moon marked its course. And thecurved line straightened abruptly to a flashing mark that shotstraight toward the struggling plane. 

 * * * * *

This time another sound came down to the listening ears of the twomen. The plane tore head on to meet the onslaught, to swing at thelast instant in a frantic leap that ended as before in the maelstromof air back of the ship. But the muffled roar was changed, puncturedwith a machine-gun's familiar rattle, and the stabbing flashes fromBlake's ship before he threw it out of the other's path were a song ofjoy to the tense nerves of the men down below. 

This deadly rush could only be construed as an attack, and Blake wasfighting back. The very speed of the great projectile must hold it toits course; the faster it went the more difficult to swerve it from aline. This and much more was flashing sharply in McGuire's mind. But--Blake!--alone against this huge antagonist!. .. It was comingback. Another rush like a star through space. .. . 

And McGuire shouted aloud in a frenzy of emotion as a cluster oflights came falling from on high. No lone machine gun now that torethe air with this clattering bedlam of shots: the planes of the 91stSquadron were diving from the heights. They came on a steep slantthat seemed marking them for crashing death against the huge cylinderflashing past. And their stabbing needles of machine-gun fire made adrumming tattoo, till the planes, with the swiftness of hawks, sweptaside, formed to groups, tore on down toward the ground and thencurved in great circles of speed to climb back to the theater ofaction. 

 * * * * *

Lieutenant McGuire was rigid and quivering. He should go to the phoneand report to the colonel, but the thought left him as quickly as itcame. He was frozen in place, and his mind could hold only the scenethat was being pictured before him. 

The enemy ship had described its swift curve, and the planes of thedefenders were climbing desperately for advantage. So slowly theymoved as compared with the swiftness of the other!

But the great ship was slowing; it came on, but its wild speed waschecked. The light of the full moon showed plainly now what McGuirehad seen but dimly before--a great metal beak on the ship, pointed andshining, a ram whose touch must bring annihilation to anything itstruck. 

The squadron of planes made a group in the sky, and Blake's monoplane, too, was with them. The huge enemy was approaching slowly: was itdamaged? McGuire hardly dared hope . .. Yet that raking fire might wellhave been deadly: it might be that some bullets had torn andpenetrated to the vitals of this ship's machinery and damaged somepart. 

It came back slowly, ominously, toward the circling planes. Then, throwing itself through the air, it leaped not directly toward thembut off to one side. 

 * * * * *

Like a stone on the end of a cord it swung with inconceivable speed ina circle that enclosed the group of planes. Again and again itwhipped around them, while the planes, by comparison, were motionless. Its orbit was flat with the ground: then tilting, more yet, it made alast circle that stood like a hoop in the air. And behind it as itcircled it left a faint trace of vapor. Nebulous!--milky in themoonlight!--but the ship had built a sphere, a great globe of the gas, and within it, like rats in a cage, the planes of the 91st Squadronwere darting and whirling. 

"Gas!" groaned the watching man: "gas! What is it? Why don't theybreak through?"

The thin clouds of vapor were mingling now and expanding: theyblossomed and mushroomed, and the light of the moon came in paleiridescence from their billowing folds. 

"Break through!" McGuire had prayed--and he stood in voiceless horroras he saw the attempt. 

The mist was touching here and there a plane: they were engulfed, yethe could see them plainly. And he saw with staring, fear-filled eyesthe clumsy tumbling and fluttering of unguided wings as the greateagles of the 91st fell roaring to earth with no conscious mindsguiding their flight. 

The valleys were deep about the mountain, and their shadowed blacknessopened to receive the maimed, stricken things that came fluttering orswooping wildly to that last embrace, where, in the concealingshadows, the deeper shadows of death awaited. .. . 

 * * * * *

There was a room where a telephone waited: McGuire sensed this butdumbly, and the way to that room was long to his stumbling feet. Hewas blinded: his mind would not function: he saw only those flutteringthings, and the moonlight on their wings, and the shadows that tookthem so softly at the last. 

One plane whistled close overhead. McGuire stopped where he stood tofollow it with unbelieving eyes. That one man had lived, escaped thenet--it was inconceivable! The plane returned: it was flying low, andit swerved erratically as it flew. It was a monoplane: a new ship. 

Its motor was silenced: it stalled as he watched, to pancake and crashwhere the towering pines made a cradle of great branches to cushionits fall. 

No thought now of the colonel waiting impatiently for a report; eventhe enemy, there in the sky was forgotten. It was Blake in that ship, and he was alive--or had been--for he had cut his motor. McGuirescreamed out for Professor Sykes, and there were others, too, who camerunning at his call. He tore recklessly through the scrub andundergrowth and gained at last the place where wreckage hung danglingfrom the trees. The fuselage of a plane, scarred and broken, was stillheld in the strong limbs. 

 * * * * *

Captain Blake was in the cockpit, half hanging from the side. He wasmotionless, quiet, and his face shone white and ghastly as theyreleased him and drew him out. But one hand still clung with a griplike death itself to a hose that led from an oxygen tank. McGuirestared in wonder and slowly gathering comprehension. 

"He was fixed for an altitude test, " he said dazedly; "this ship wasto be used, and he was to find her ceiling. He saw what the otherswere getting, and he flew himself through on a jet of pure oxygen--"He stopped in utter admiration of the quickness of thought that couldoutwit death in an instant like that. 

They carried the limp body to the light. "No bones broken so far as Ican see, " said the voice of Professor Sykes. "Leave him here in theair. He must have got a whiff of their devilish mist in spite of hisoxygen; he was flying mighty awkwardly when he came in here. "

But he was alive!--and Lieutenant McGuire hastened with all speed nowto the room where a telephone was ringing wildly and a colonel of theair force must be told of the annihilation of a crack squadron and ofa threat that menaced all the world. 

 * * * * *

In that far room there were others waiting where Colonel Boynton satwith receiver to his ear. A general's uniform was gleaming in thelight to make more sober by contrast the civilian clothing of thatquiet, clear-eyed man who held the portfolio of the Secretary of War. 

They stared silently at Colonel Boynton, and they saw the blood recedefrom his face, while his cool voice went on unmoved with its replies. 

". .. I understand, " he said; "a washout, complete except for CaptainBlake; his oxygen saved him. .. . It attacked with gas, you say?. .. Andwhy did not our own planes escape?. .. Its speed!--yes, we'll have toimagine it, but it is unbelievable. One moment--" He turned to thosewho waited for his report. 

"The squadron, " he said with forced quiet, though his lips twitched ina bloodless line, "--the 91st--is destroyed. The enemy put them downwith one blow; enveloped them with gas. " He recounted the essence ofMcGuire's report, then turned once more to the phone. 

"Hello, Lieutenant--the enemy ship--where is it now?"

He listened--listened--to a silent receiver: silent save for the soundof a shot--a crashing fall--a loud, panting breath. He heard thebreathing close to the distant instrument; it ended in a choking gasp;the instrument was silent in his ear. .. . 

He signalled violently for the operator: ordered the ringing of anyand all phones about the observatory, and listened in vain for a soundor syllable in reply. 

"A plane, " he told an orderly, "at once! Phone the commercial flyingfield near the base of Mount Lawson. Have them hold a car ready forme: I shall land there!"

CHAPTER V

To Captain Blake alone, of all those persons on the summit of MountLawson, it was given to see and to know and be able to relate whattranspired there and in the air above. For Blake, although he appearedlike one dead, was never unconscious throughout his experience. 

Driving head on toward the ship, he had emptied his drum of cartridgesbefore he threw his plane over and down in a dive that escaped theonrush of the great craft by a scant margin, and that carried him downin company with the men and machines of the squadron that dived fromabove. 

He turned as they turned and climbed as they climbed for the advantagethat altitude might give. And he climbed faster: his ship outdistancedthem in that tearing, scrambling rush for the heights. The squadronwas spiraling upward in close formation with his plane above them whenthe enemy struck. 

He saw that great shape swing around them, terrible in its silentswiftness, and, like the others, he failed to realize at first the netshe was weaving. So thin was the gas and so rapid the circling of theenemy craft, they were captured and cut off inside of the gaseoussphere before the purpose of the maneuver was seen or understood. 

He saw the first faint vapor form above him; swung over for a steepbank that carried him around the inside of the great cage of gas andthat showed him the spiraling planes as the first wisps of vapor sweptpast them. 

He held that bank with his swift machine, while below him a squadronof close-formed fighting craft dissolved before his eyes into unguidedunits. The formations melted: wings touched and locked; the planesfell dizzily or shot off in wild, ungoverned, swerving flight. The airwas misty about him; it was fragrant in his nostrils; the world wasswimming. .. . 

 * * * * *

It was gas, he knew, and with the light-headedness that was upon him, so curiously like that of excessive altitudes, he reachedunconsciously for the oxygen supply. The blast of pure gas in his facerevived him for an instant, and in that instant of clear thinking hisplan was formed. He threw his weight on stick and rudder, correctedthe skid his ship was taking, and, with one hand holding the tube oflife-giving oxygen before his face, he drove straight down in a divetoward the earth. 

There were great weights fastened to his arm, it seemed, when he triedto bring the ship from her fearful dive. He moved only with greatesteffort, and it was force of will alone that compelled his hands to dotheir work. His brain, as he saw the gleaming roundness of observatorybuildings beneath him, was as clear as ever in his life, but hismuscles, his arms and legs, refused to work: even his head; he wasslowly sinking beneath a load of utter fatigue. 

The observatories were behind him; he must swing back; he could notlast long, he knew; each slightest movement was intolerable effort. 

Was this death? he wondered; but his mind was so clear! There were thebuildings, the trees! How thickly they were massed beyond--

He brought every ounce of will power to bear . .. The throttle!--and aslow glide in . .. He was losing speed . .. The stick--must--come--back!The crashing branches whipped about him, bending, crackling--and theworld went dark. .. . 

 * * * * *

There were stars above him when he awoke, and his back was wrenchedand aching. He tried to move, to call, but found that the paralysingeffect of the gas still held him fast. He was lying on the ground, heknew: a door was open in a building beyond, and the light in the roomshowed him men, a small group of them, standing silent whilesomeone--yes, it was McGuire--shouted into a phone. 

". .. The squadron, " he was saying. ". .. Lost! Every plane down anddestroyed. .. . Blake is living but injured. .. . " And then Blakeremembered. And the tumbling, helpless planes came again before hiseyes while he cursed silently at this freezing grip that would not lethim cover his face with his hands to shut out the sight. 

The figure of a man hurried past him, nor saw the body lying helplessin the cool dark. McGuire was still at the phone. And the enemyship--?

His mind, filled with a welter of words as he tried to find phrases tocompass his hate for that ship. And then, as if conjured out ofnothing by his thoughts, the great craft itself came in view overheadin all its mighty bulk. 

It settled down swiftly: it was riding on an even keel. And in silenceand darkness it came from above. Blake tried to call out, but no soundcould be formed by his paralyzed throat. Doors opened in silence, swinging down from the belly of the thing to show in the darknesssquare openings through which shot beams of brilliant yellow light. 

There were cages that lowered--great platforms in slings--and theplatforms came softly to rest on the ground. They were moving withlife; living beings clustered upon them thick in the dark. Oh God! foran instant's release from the numbness that held his lips and throatto cry out one word!. .. The shapes were passing now in the shelter ofdarkness, going toward the room. .. . He could see McGuire's back turnedtoward the door. 

Man-shapes, tall and thin, distorted humans, each swathed in bulginggarments; horrible staring eyes of glass in the masks about theirheads, and each hand ready with a shining weapon as they stood waitingfor the men within to move. 

 * * * * *

McGuire must have seen them first, though his figure was halfconcealed from Blake where he was lying. But he saw the head turn;knew by the quick twist of the shoulders the man was reaching for agun. One shot echoed in Blake's ears; one bulging figure spun and fellawkwardly to the ground; then the weapons in those clumsy hands hissedsavagely while jets of vapor, half liquid and half gas, shotblindingly into the room. The faces dropped from his sight. .. . 

There had been the clamor of surprised and shouting men: there wassilence now. And the awkward figures in the bloated casings thatprotected their bodies from the gas passed in safety to the room. Blake, bound in the invisible chains of enemy gas, struggled silently, futilely, to pit his will against this grip that held him. To liethere helpless, to see these men slaughtered! He saw one of thecreatures push the body of his fallen comrade out of the way: it wascast aside with an indifferent foot. 

They were coming back: Blake saw the form of McGuire in unmistakablekhaki. He and another man were carried high on the shoulders of someof the invaders. They were going toward the platforms, the slingsbeneath the ship. .. . They passed close to Blake, and again he wasunnoticed in the dark. 

A clamor came from distant buildings, a babel of howls and shrieks, inhuman, unearthly. There were no phrases or syllables, but to Blakeit was familiar . .. Somewhere he had heard it . .. And then heremembered the radio and the weird wailing note that told ofcommunication. These things were talking in the same discordant din. 

 * * * * *

They were gathering now on the platforms slung under the ship. Awhistling note from somewhere within the great structure and theplatforms went high in the air. They were loaded, he saw, with papersand books and instruments plundered from the observatories. Some madea second trip to take up the loot they had gathered. Then the blackdoorways closed; the huge bulk of the ship floated high above thetrees; it took form, dwindled smaller and smaller, then vanished fromsight in the star-studded sky. 

Blake thought of their unconscious passenger--the slim figure ofLieutenant McGuire. Mac had been a close friend and a good one; hisready smile; his steady eyes that could tear a problem to pieces withtheir analytic scrutiny or gaze far into space to see those visions ofa dreamer!

"Far into space. " Blake repeated the words in his mind. And: "Good-byMac, " he said softly; "you've shipped for a long cruise, I'mthinking. " He hardly realized he had spoken the words aloud. 

 * * * * *

Lying there in the cold night he felt his strength returning slowly. The pines sang their soothing, whispered message, and the faint nightnoises served but to intensify the silence of the mountain. It wassome time before the grind of straining gears came faintly in the airto announce the coming of a car up the long grade. And still later heheard it come to a stop some distance beyond. There were footsteps, and voices calling: he heard the voice of Colonel Boynton. And he wasable to call out in reply, even to move his head and turn it to seethe approaching figures in the night. 

Colonel Boynton knelt beside him. "Did they get you, old man?" heasked. 

"Almost, " Blake told him. "My oxygen--I was lucky. But the others--". He did not need to complete the sentence. The silent canyons amongthose wooded hills told plainly the story of the lost men. 

"We will fight them with gas masks, " said the colonel; "yourexperience has taught us the way. "

"Gas-tight uniforms and our own supplies of oxygen, " Blakesupplemented. He told Boynton of the man-things he had seen come fromthe ship, of their baggy suits, their helmets. .. . And he had seen asmall generator on the back of each helmet. He told him of the small, shining weapons and their powerful jets of gas. Deadly and unescapableat short range, he well knew. 

"They got McGuire, " Blake concluded; "carried him off a prisoner. Tookanother man, too. "

For a moment Colonel Boynton's quiet tones lost their even steadiness. "We'll get them, " he said savagely, and it was plain that it was theinvaders that filled his mind; "we'll go after them, and we'll getthem in spite of their damn gas, and we'll rip their big ship intoribbons--"

Captain Blake was able to raise a dissenting hand. "We will have to gowhere they are, Colonel, to do that. "

Colonel Boynton stared at him. "Well?" he demanded. "Why not?"

"We can't go where _they_ went, " said Blake simply. "I laughed atMcGuire; told him not to be a fool. But I was the fool--the blind one;we all were, Colonel. That thing came here out of space. It has goneback; it is far beyond our air. I saw it go up out of sight, and Iknow. Those creatures were men, if you like, but no men that weknow--not those shrieking, wailing devils! And we're going to hearmore from them, now that they've found their way here!"

CHAPTER VI

A score of bodies where men had died in strangling fumes in theobservatories on Mount Lawson; one of the country's leadingastronomical scientists vanished utterly; the buildings on themountain top ransacked; papers and documents blowing in vagrant winds;tales of a monster ship in the air, incredibly huge, unbelievablyswift--

There are matters that at times are not allowed to reach the press, but not happenings like these. And the papers of the United Statesblazed out with headlines to tell the world of this latest mystery. 

Then came corroboration from the far corners of the world. The mysteryship had not visited one section only; it had made a survey of thewhole civilized sphere, and the tales of those who had seen it were nolonger laughed to scorn but went on the wires of the great pressagencies to be given to the world. And with that the censorshipimposed by the Department of War broke down, and the tragic story ofthe destruction of the 91st Air Squadron passed into written history. The wild tale of Captain Blake was on every tongue. 

An invasion from space! The idea was difficult to accept. There werescoffers who tried to find something here for their easy wit. Whyshould we be attacked? What had that other world to gain? There was noanswer ready, but the silent lips of the men who had fallen spokeeloquently of the truth. And the world, in wonder and consternation, was forced to believe. 

Were there more to come? How meet them? Was this war--and with whom?What neighboring planet could reasonably be suspected. What hadscience to say?

The scientists! The scientists! The clamor of the world was beating atthe doors of science and demanding explanations and answers. Andscience answered. 

A conference was arranged in London; the best minds in the realms ofastronomy and physics came together. They were the last to admit thetruth that would not be denied, but admit it they must. And to some ofthe questions they found their answer. 

 * * * * *

It was not Mars, they said, though this in the popular mind was thesource of the trouble. Not Mars, for that planet was far in theheavens. But Venus!--misnamed for the Goddess of Love. It was Venus, and she alone, who by any stretch of the imagination could bethreatening Earth. 

What did it mean? They had no answer. The ship was the only answer tothat. Would there be more?--could we meet them?--defeat them? Andagain the wise men of the world refused to hazard a guess. 

But they told what they knew; that Venus was past her easternelongation, was approaching the earth. She of all the planets thatswung around the sun came nearest to Earth--twenty-six million milesin another few weeks. Then whirling away she would pass to the westernelongation in a month and a half and drive out into space. Venuscircled the sun in a year of 225 days, and in 534 days she would againreach her eastern elongation with reference to the earth, and drawnear us again. 

They were reluctant to express themselves, these men who made nothingof weighing and analyzing stars a million of light years away, but_if_ the popular conception was correct and _if_ we could pass throughthe following weeks without further assault, we could count on a yearand a half before the menace would again return. And in a year and ahalf--well, the physicists would be working--and we might be prepared. 

Captain Blake had made his report, but this, it seemed, was notenough. He was ordered to come to Washington, and, with ColonelBoynton, he flew across the country to tell again his incrediblestory. 

 * * * * *

It was a notable gathering before which he appeared. All the branchesof the service were represented; there were men in the uniform ofadmirals and generals; there were heads of Departments. And theSecretary of War was in charge. 

He told his story, did Blake, before a battery of hostile eyes. Thiswas not a gathering to be stampeded by wild scareheads, nor by popularclamor. They wanted facts, and they wanted them proved. But thegravity with which they regarded the investigation was shown by theirinvitation to the representatives of foreign powers to attend. 

"I have told you all that happened, " Blake concluded, "up to thecoming of Colonel Boynton. May I reiterate one fact? I do not wonderat your questioning my state of mind and my ability to observecorrectly. But I must insist, gentlemen, that while I got a shot oftheir gas and my muscles and my nervous system were paralyzed, mybrain was entirely clear. I saw what I saw; those creatures werethere; they entered the buildings; they carried off Lieutenant McGuireand another man. 

"What they were or who they were I cannot say. I do not know that theywere men, but their insane shrieking in that queer unintelligible talkis significant. And that means of communication corresponds with theradio reception of which you know. 

"If you gentlemen know of any part of this earth that can produce sucha people, if you know of any people or country in this world that canproduce such a ship--then we can forget all our wild fancies. And wecan prepare to submit to that country and that people as the mastersof this earth. For I must tell you, gentlemen, with all theearnestness at my command, that until you have seen that ship inaction, seen its incredible speed, its maneuverability, itslightning-like attack and its curtain of gas, you can have noconception of our helplessness. And the insignia that she carries isthe flag of our conquerors. "

 * * * * *

Blake got an approving nod from the Secretary of War as he took hisseat. That quiet man rose slowly from his chair to add his words. Hespoke earnestly, impressively. 

"Captain Blake has hit the nail squarely on the head, " he stated. "Wehave here in this room a representative gathering from the wholeworld. If there is any one of you who can say that this mystery shipwas built and manned by your people, let him speak, and we will sendyou at once a commission to acknowledge your power and negotiate forpeace. "

The great hall was silent, in a silence that held only uneasyrustlings as men glanced one at another in wondering dismay. 

"The time has come, " said the Secretary with solemn emphasis, "whenall dissensions among our peoples must cease. Whatever there is orever has been of discord between us fades into insignificance beforethis new threat. It is the world, now, against a power unknown; we canonly face it as a united world. 

"I shall recommend to the President of the United States that acommission be appointed, that it may co-operate with similar bodiesfrom all lands. I ask you, gentlemen, to make like representations toyour governments, to the end that we may meet this menace as onecountry and one man; meet it, God grant, successfully through a WarDepartment of the World. "

 * * * * *

It was a brave gesture of the President of the United States; he daredthe scorn and laughter of the world in standing behind his Secretaryof War. The world is quick to turn and rend with ridicule a falseprophet. And despite the unanswerable facts, the scope and power ofthe menace was not entirely believed. It was difficult for theconscious minds of men to conceive of the barriers of vast space asswept aside and the earth laid open to attack. 

England was slow to respond to the invitation of the President: thismatter required thought and grave deliberation in parliament. It mightnot be true: the thought, whether spoken or unexpressed, was clingingto their minds. And even if true--even if this lone ship had wanderedin from space--there might be no further attack. 

"Why, " they asked, "should there be more unprovoked assaults from thepeople of another planet? What was their object? What had they togain? . .. Perhaps we were safe after all. " The answer that destroyedall hope came to them borne in upon a wall of water that swept theBritish coast. 

The telescopes of the world were centered now on just one object inthe heavens. The bright evening star that adorned the western sky wasthe target for instruments great and small. It was past the half-moonphase now, and it became under magnification a gleaming crescent, acrescent that emitted from the dark sphere it embraced vivid flashesof light. Sykes' report had ample corroboration; the flash was seen bymany, and it was repeated the next night and the next. 

What was it? the waiting world asked. And the answer came not from thetelescopes and their far-reaching gaze but from the waters of theAtlantic. In the full blaze of day came a meteor that swept to theearth in an arc of fire to outshine the sun. There must have beenthose who saw it strike--passengers and crews of passing ships--butits plunge into the depths of the Atlantic spelled death for eachwitness. 

 * * * * *

The earth trembled with the explosion that followed. A gas--some newcompound that united with water to give volumes tremendous--that onlycould explain it. The ocean rose from its depths and flung wave afterwave to race outward in circles of death. 

Hundreds of feet in height at their source--this could only beestimated--they were devastating when they struck. The ocean ragedover the frail bulwark of England in wave upon wave, and, retreating, the waters left smooth, shining rock where cities had been. The stoneand steel of their buildings was scattered far over the desolate landor drawn in the suction of retreating waters to the sea. 

Ireland, too, and France and Spain. Even the coast of America felt theshock of the explosion and was swept by tidal waves of hugeproportions. But the coast of Britain took the blow at its worst. 

The world was stunned and waiting--waiting!--when the next blow fell. The flashes were coming from Venus at regular intervals, just twentyhours and nineteen minutes apart. And with exactly the same timeintervals the bolts arrived from space to lay waste the earth. 

They struck where they would: the ocean again; the Sahara; in themountains of China; the Pacific was thrown into fearful convulsions;the wheat fields of Canada trembled and vanished before a blast offlaming gas. .. . 

Twenty hours and nineteen minutes! Where it would strike, the nextstar-shell, no man might say; that it surely would come was a deadlyand nerve-shattering certainty. The earth waited and prayed underactual bombardment. 

 * * * * *

Some super-gun, said science with conviction; a great bore in theplanet itself, perhaps. But it was fixed, and the planet itself aimedwith an accuracy that was deadly; aimed once as each revolutionbrought its gun on the target. Herein, said science, lay a basis forhope. 

If, in that distant world, there was only one such bore, it must bealtering its aim as the planet approached; the gun must cease to bearupon the earth. And the changing sweep of the missiles' flightconfirmed their belief. 

Each meteor-shell that came rushing into Earth's embrace burnedbrilliantly as it tore into the air. And each flaming arc wasincreasingly bent, until--twenty hours and nineteen minutes hadpassed--twenty minutes--thirty--another hour . .. And the peoples ofEarth dropped humbly to their knees in thankful prayer, or raisedvengeful eyes and clenched fists toward the heavens while theirquivering lips uttered blasphemous curses. The menace, for the time, had passed; the great gun of Venus no longer was aiming toward theearth. 

"No more ships, " was the belief; "not this time. " And the world turnedto an accounting of its losses, and to wonder--wonder--what theplanet's return would bring. A year and one half was theirs; one yearand a half in which to live in safety, in which to plan and build. 

 * * * * *

A column, double leaded, in the _London Times_ voiced the feeling ofthe world. It was copied and broadcast everywhere. 

"Another attack, " it concluded, "is not a probability--it is acertainty. They are destroying us for some reason known only tothemselves. Who can doubt that when the planet returns there will be afurther bombardment; an invasion by armed forces in giant ships; bombsdropped from them miles high in the air. This is what we must lookforward to--death and destruction dealt out by a force we are unableto meet. 

"Our munitions factories may build larger guns, but can they reach theheights at which these monster ships of space will lie, with any faintprobability of inflicting damage? It is doubtful. 

"Our aircraft is less than useless; its very name condemns it asinept. Craft of the air!--and we have to war against space ships whichcan rise beyond the thin envelope of gas that encircles the earth. 

"The world is doomed--utterly and finally doomed; it is the end ofhumankind; slavery to a conquering race at the very best, unless--

"Let us face the facts fairly. It is war--war to the death--betweenthe inhabitants of this world and of that other. We are men. What theyare God alone can say. But they are creatures of mind as are we; whatthey have done, we may do. 

"There is our only hope. It is vain, perhaps--preposterous in itsassumption--but our sole and only hope. We must meet the enemy anddefeat him, and we must do it on his own ground. To destroy theirfleet we must penetrate space; to silence their deadly bombardment wemust go out into space as they have done, reach their distant worldas they have reached ours, and conquer as we would have beenconquered. 

"It is a tenuous hope, but our only one. Let our men of mundanewarfare do their best--it will be useless. But if there be one sparkof God-given genius in the world that can point the way to victory, let those in authority turn no deaf ear. 

"It is a battle now of minds, and the best minds will win. Humanity--allhumankind--is facing the end. In less than one year and a half we mustsucceed--or perish. And unless we conquer finally and decisively, the storyof man in the history of the universe will be a tale that is told, a recordof life in a book that is ended--closed--and forgotten through alleternity. "

CHAPTER VII

A breath of a lethal gas shot from the flying ship had made CaptainBlake as helpless as if every muscle were frozen hard, and he had gotit only lightly, mixed with the saving blast of oxygen. His heart hadgone on, and his breathing, though it became shallow, did not cease;he was even able to turn his eyes. But to the men in the observatoryroom the gas from the weapons of the attacking force came as adevastating, choking cloud that struck them senseless as if with ablow. Lieutenant McGuire hardly heard the sound of his own pistolbefore unconsciousness took him. 

It was death for the men who were left--for them the quick darknessnever lifted--but for McGuire and his companion there was reprieve. 

He was lying flat on a hard floor when remembrance crept slowly backto his benumbed brain. An odor, sickish-sweet, was in his nostrils;the breath of life was being forcibly pumped and withdrawn fromlaboring lungs; a mask was tight against his face. He struggled tothrow it off, and someone bending over removed it. 

Someone! His eyes stared wonderingly at the grotesque face like alingering phantasm of fevered dreams. There were others, he saw, andthey were working over a body not far away upon the floor. Herecognized the figure of Professor Sykes. Short, stocky, his clothesdisheveled--but Sykes, unmistakably, despite the mask upon his face. 

He, too, revived as McGuire watched, and, like the flyer, he lookedwonderingly about him at his strange companions. The eyes of the twomet and held in wordless communication and astonishment. 

 * * * * *

The unreal creatures that hovered near withdrew to the far side of theroom. The walls beyond them were of metal, white and gleaming; therewere doorways. In another wall were portholes--round windows of thickglass that framed circles of absolute night. It was dark out beyondthem with a blackness that was relieved only by sharp pin-points ofbrilliance--stars in a night sky such as McGuire had never seen. 

Past and present alike were hazy to the flyer; the spark of life hadbeen brought back to his body from a far distance; there was timeneeded to part the unreal from the real in these new and strangesurroundings. 

There were doorways in the ceiling, and others in the floor near wherehe lay; ladders fastened to the wall gave access to these doors. Agrotesque figure appeared above the floor and, after a curious glanceat the two men, scrambled into the room and vanished through theopening in the ceiling. It was some time before the significance ofthis was plain to the wondering man--before he reasoned that he was inthe enemy ship, aimed outward from the earth, and the pull ofgravitation and the greater force of the vessel's constantacceleration held its occupants to the rear walls of each room. Thatlanky figure had been making its way forward toward the bow of theship. McGuire's mind was clearing; he turned his attention now to thecurious, waiting creatures, his captors. 

There were five of them standing in the room, five shapes like men, yet curiously, strangely, different. They were tall of stature, narrowacross the shoulders, muscular in a lean, attenuated fashion. Buttheir faces! McGuire found his eyes returning in horrified fascinationto each hideous, inhuman countenance. 

A colorless color, like the dead gray of ashes; a skin like that of anAfrican savage from which all but the last vestige of color had beendrained. It was transparent, parchment-like, and even in the light ofthe room that glowed from some hidden source, he could see thethrobbing lines of blood-vessels that showed livid through thetranslucent skin. And he remembered, now, the fingers, half-seen inhis moments of awakening--they were like clinging tendrils, colorless, too, in that ashy gray, and showed the network of veins as if eachhand had been flayed alive. 

 * * * * *

The observer found himself analyzing, comparing, trying to find someearthly analogy for these unearthly creatures. Why did he think ofpotatoes sprouting in a cellar? What possible connection had thesehalf-human things with that boyhood recollection? And he had seen somelaboratory experiments with plants and animals that had been cut offfrom the sunlight--and now the connection was clear; he knew what thisidea was that was trying to form. 

These were creatures of the dark. These bleached, drained faces showedskin that had never known the actinic rays of the sun; their wholeframework proclaimed the process that had been going on throughcountless generations. Here was a race that had lived, if not inabsolute darkness, then in some place where sunlight never shone--aplace of half-light--or of clouds. 

"Clouds!" The exclamation was startled from him. And: "Clouds!" herepeated meditatively; he was seeing again a cloud-wrapped world inthe eye-piece of a big refracting telescope. "Blanketed in clouds, "Professor Sykes had said. The scientist himself was speaking to himnow in bewildered tones. 

"Clouds?" he inquired. "That's a strange remark to make. Where are we, Lieutenant McGuire? I remember nothing after you fired. Are weflying--in the clouds?"

"A long, long way beyond them, is my guess, " said McGuire grimly. Itwas staggering what all this might mean; there was time needed forfuller comprehension. But the lean bronzed face of the flyer flushedwith animation, and in spite of the terrors that must surely lie aheadhe felt strangely elated at the actuality of an incredible adventure. 

 * * * * *

Slowly he got to his feet to find that his muscles still werereluctant to respond to orders; he helped the professor to arise. Andfrom the group that drew back further into the far end of the roomcame a subdued and rasping tumult of discordant sound. 

One, seemingly in charge, held a weapon in his hand, a slender tube nothicker than a common wire; and ending in a cylinder within thecreature's hand. He pointed it in threatening fashion while his voicerose in a shrill call. McGuire and Professor Sykes stood quiet andwaited for what the next moment might have in store, but McGuire wavedthe weapon aside in a gesture that none could fail to read. 

"Steady, " he told his companion. "We're in a ticklish position. Donothing to alarm them. "

From up above them came an answering shrill note. Another of thebeings was descending into the room. 

"Ah!" said Lieutenant McGuire softly, "the big boss, himself. Nowlet's see what will happen. "

If there had seemed something of timidity in the repulsive faces ofthe waiting creatures, this newcomer was of a different type. Heopened flabby thin lips to give one sharp note of command. It was assibilant as the hissing of a snake. The man with the weapon returnedit to a holder at his side; the whole group cringed before the powerand authority of the new arrival. 

The men that they had seen thus far were all garbed alike; aloose-fitting garment of one piece that was ludicrously like the playrompers that children might wear. These were dull red in color, thered of drying blood, made of strong woven cloth. But this other wasuniformed differently. 

McGuire noted the fineness of the silky robe. Like the others this wasmade of one piece, loosely fitting, but its bright vivid scarlet madethe first seem drab and dull. A belt of metal about his waist shonelike gold and matched the emblem of precious metal in the turban onhis head. 

 * * * * *

All this the eyes of the flyer took in at a glance; his attention wasonly momentarily diverted from the ashen face with eyes narrow andslitted, that stared with the cold hatred of a cat into those of themen. 

He made a sound with a whistling breath. It seemed to be a questiondirected to them, but the import of it was lost. 

"An exceedingly queer lot, " Professor Sykes observed. "And this chapseems distinctly hostile. "

"He's no friend of mine, " said McGuire as the thin, pendulous lipsrepeated their whistling interrogation. 

"I can't place them, " mused the scientist. "Those facialcharacteristics. .. . But they must be of some nationality, speak sometongue. "

He addressed himself to the figure with the immobile, horrid face. 

"We do not understand you, " he said with an ingratiating smile. "_Comprenez vous Francaise?_. .. _Non?_". .. German, perhaps, orSpanish?. .. "_Sprecken sie Deutsche?_ _Usted habla Española?_. .. "

He followed with a fusillade of questions in strange and varyingtongues. "I've even tried him with Chinese, " he protested inbewilderment and stared amazed at his companion's laughter. 

There had to be a reaction from the strain of the past hours, andLieutenant McGuire found the serious questioning in polyglot tonguesand the unchanging feline stare of that hideous face too much for hismental restraint. He held his sides, while he shook and roared withlaughter beyond control, and the figure before him glared with evidentdisapproval of his mirth. 

 * * * * *

There was a hissing order, and two figures from the corner sprangforward to seize the flyer with long clinging fingers. Their strengthhe had overestimated, for a violent throw of his body twisted himfree, and his outstretched hands sent the two sprawling across theroom. Their leader took one quick step forward, then paused as ifhesitating to meet this young adversary. 

"Do go easy, " Professor Sykes was imploring. "We do not know where weare nor who they are, but we must do nothing to antagonize them. "

McGuire had reacted from his hilarious seizure with an emotional swingto the opposite extreme. "I'll break their damn necks, " he growled, "if they get rough with me. " And his narrow eyes exchanged glare forglare with those in the face like blood and ashes before him. 

The cold cat eyes held steadily upon him while the scarlet figureretreated. A louder call, shrill and vibrant, came from the thin lips, and a swarm of bodies in dull red were scrambling into the room tomass about their scarlet leader. Above and behind them the face underits brilliant turban and golden clasp was glaring in triumph. 

The tall figures crouched, grotesque and awkward; their long arms andhands with grasping, tendril-like fingers were ready. McGuire waitedfor the sharp hissing order that would throw these things upon him, and he met the attack when it came with his own shoulders dropped tothe fighter's pose, head drawn in close and both fists swinging free. 

There were lean fingers clutching at his throat, a press of blood-redbodies thick about him, and a clustering of faces where color blotchedand flowed. 

The thud of fists in blows that started from the floor was new tothese lean creatures that clawed and clung like cats. But theytrampled on those who went down before the flyer's blows and stoodupon them to spring at his head; they crowded in in overwhelmingnumbers while their red hands tore and twined about his face. 

 * * * * *

It was no place now for long swings; McGuire twisted his body andthrew his weight into quick short jabs at the faces before him. He wasclear for an instant and swung his heavy boot at something that clungto one leg; then met with a rain of hooks and short punches the facesthat closed in again. He saw in that instant a wild whirl of bodieswhere the stocky figure of Professor Sykes was smothered beneath histaller antagonists. But the professor, if he was forgetting thescience of the laboratory, was remembering that of the squaredcircle--and the battle was not entirely one sided. 

McGuire was free; the blood was trickling down his face frominnumerable cuts where sharp-nailed fingers had sunk deep. He wipedthe red stream from his eyes and threw himself at the weaving mass ofbodies that eddied about Sykes in frantic struggle across the room. 

The face of the professor showed clear for a moment. Like McGuire hewas bleeding, and his breath came in short explosive gasps, but he washolding his own! The eyes of McGuire glimpsed a wildly gesticulating, shouting figure in the rear. The face, contorted with rage, was almostthe color of the brilliant scarlet that the creature wore. Theblood-stained man in khaki left his companion to fight his own battle, and plunged headlong at a leaping cluster of dull red, smashed throughwith a frenzied attack of straight rights and lefts, and freed himselfto make one final leap at the leader of this unholy pack. 

He was fighting in blind desperation now; the two were out-numbered bythe writhing, lean-bodied creatures, and this thing that showed inblurred crimson before him was the directing power of them all. Thefigure symbolized and personified to the raging man all the repulsiveugliness of the leaping horde. The face came clear before him throughthe mist of blood, and he put the last ounce of his remaining strengthand every pound of weight behind a straight, clean drive with hisright fist. 

His last conscious impression was of a red, clawing hand that wasclosed around the thick butt of a tube of steel . .. Then down, andstill down, he plunged into a bottomless pit of whirling, red flashesand choking fumes. .. . 

There were memories that were to occur to Lieutenant McGuireafterward--visions, dim and hazy and blurred, of half-waking momentswhen strange creatures forced food and water into his mouth, then helda mask upon his face while he resisted weakly the breathing of sweet, sickly fumes that sent him back to unconsciousness. 

There were many such times; some when he came sufficiently awake toknow that Sykes was lying near him, receiving similar care. Theirlives were being preserved: How, or why, or what life might hold instore he neither knew nor cared; the mask and the deep-drawn fumesbrought stupor and numbness to his brain. 

A window was in the floor beside him when he awoke--a circular window ofthick glass or quartz. But no longer did it frame a picture of a sky invelvet blackness; no unwinking pin-points of distant stars pricked keenlythrough the night; but, clear and dazzling, came a blessed radiance thatcould mean only sunshine. A glowing light that was dazzling to hissleep-filled eyes, it streamed in golden--beautiful--to light theunfamiliar room and show motionless upon the floor the figure of ProfessorSykes. His torn clothing had been neatly arranged, and his face showedlivid lines of healing cuts and bruises. 

McGuire tried gingerly to move his arms and legs; they were stillfunctioning though stiff and weak from disuse. He raised himselfslowly and stood swaying on his feet, then made his uncertain way tohis companion and shook him weakly by the shoulder. 

Professor Sykes breathed deeply and raised leaden lids from tired eyesto stare uncomprehendingly at McGuire. Soon his dark pupils ceased todilate, and he, too, could see their prison and the light of day. 

"Sunlight!" he said in a thin voice, and he seemed to know now thatthey were in the air; "I wonder--I wonder--if we shall land--whatcountry? . .. Some wilderness and a strange race--a strange, strangerace!"

He was muttering half to himself; the mystery of these people whom hecould not identify was still troubling him. 

 * * * * *

McGuire helped the other man to his feet, and they clung to each tothe other for support as they crossed to kneel beside the floor-windowand learn finally where their captors meant to take them. 

A wilderness, indeed, the sight that met their eyes, but a wildernessof clouds--no unfamiliar sight to Lieutenant McGuire of the UnitedStates Army air service. But to settle softly into them instead ofdriving through with glistening wings--this was new and vastlydifferent from anything he had known. 

Sounds came to them in the silence, penetrating faintly through thickwalls--the same familiar wailing call that trembled and quavered andseemed to the listening men to be guiding them down through the mist. 

Gone was the sunlight, and the clouds beyond the deep-set window weregloriously ablaze with a brilliance softly diffused. The cloud bankwas deep, and they felt the craft under them sink slowly, steadilyinto the misty embrace. It thinned below them to drifting vapor, andthe first hazy shadows of the ground showed through from far beneath. Their altitude, the flyer knew, was still many thousands of feet. 

"Water, " said McGuire, as his trained eyes made plain to him what wasstill indistinct to the scientist. "An ocean--and a shore-line--" Moreclouds obscured the view; they parted suddenly to show a portion onlyof a clear-cut map. 

 * * * * *

It stretched beyond the confines of their window, that unfamiliar lineof wave-marked shore; the water was like frozen gold, wrinkled incountless tiny corrugations and reflecting the bright glow from above. But the land, --that drew their eyes!

Were those cities, those shadow-splashed areas of gray and rose?. .. The last veiling clouds dissolved, and the whole circle was plain totheir view. 

The men leaned forward, breathless, intent, till the scientist, Sykes--the man whose eyes had seen and whose brain recorded a dimshape in the lens of a great telescope--Sykes drew back with aquivering, incredulous breath. For below them, so plain, sounmistakable, there lay an island, large even from this height, and itformed on this round map a sharp angle like a great letter "L. "

"We shall know that if we ever see it again, " Professor Sykes hadremarked in the quiet and security of that domed building surmountingthe heights of Mount Lawson. But he said nothing now, as he stared athis companion with eyes that implored McGuire to arouse him from thissleep, this dream that could never be real. But McGuire, lieutenantone-time in the forces of the U. S. A. , had seen it too, and he staredback with a look that gave dreadful confirmation. 

The observatory--Mount Lawson--the earth!--those were the thingsunreal and far away. And here before them, in brain-stunningactuality, were the markings unmistakable--the markings of Venus. Andthey were landing, these two, in the company of creatures wild andstrange as the planet--on Venus itself!

(_To be continued. _)

 * * * * *

[Advertisement: ]

The Destroyer

_By William Merriam Rouse_

[Illustration: "The connection is made, " murmured Von Stein. ]

[Sidenote: Slowly, insidiously, there stole over Allen Parkersomething uncanny. He could no longer control his hands--even hisbrain!]

The pencil in the hand of Allen Parker refused to obey his will. Astrange unseen force pushed his will aside and took possession of thepencil point so that what he drew was not his own. It was the samewhen he turned from drawing board to typewriter. The sentences werenot of his framing; the ideas were utterly foreign to him. This wasthe first hint he received of the fate that was drawing in like nightupon him and his beautiful wife. 

Parker, a young writer of growing reputation who illustrated his ownwork, was making a series of pencil sketches for a romance partlyfinished. The story was as joyous and elusive as sunlight, and untilto-day his sketches had held the same quality. Now he could not tapthe reservoir from which he had taken the wind-blown hair and smilingeyes of Madelon, his heroine. 

When he drew or wrote he seemed to be submerged in the dark waters ofa measureless evil pit. The face that mocked him from the paper wasstamped with a world-old knowledge of forbidden things. 

Parker dropped his pencil and leaned back, tortured. He and his wife, Betty, had taken this house in Pine Hills, a small and extremelyquiet suburban village, solely for the purpose of concentration on thebook which was to be the most important work he had done. He went tothe door of the room that he used for a studio and called:

"Betty! Can you come here a moment, please?"

 * * * * *

There was a patter of running feet on the stairs and then a girl oftwenty, or thereabout, came into the room. Any man would have said shewas a blessing. Her hair "was yellow like ripe corn, " and her vividblue eyes held depth and character and charm. 

"Look!" exclaimed Parker. "What do you think of this stuff?"

For a moment there was silence. Then Allen Parker saw something he hadnever before seen in his wife's face for him or his work--a look ofcomplete disgust. 

"I wouldn't have believed you capable of doing anything so . .. Sohorrid!" she said coldly. "How could you?"

"I don't know!" His arms, which had been ready to take her to him forcomfort, dropped. "The work has been . .. Difficult, lately. As thoughsomething were pulling at my mind. But not like this! It isn't _me_!"

"It must be you, since it came out of you!" She turned away and movedrestlessly to one of the windows. 

"Through me!" muttered Parker. "Ideas _come_!"

"You'll have to do something!"

"But what? I don't know what to do!"

"Why not go to see that new doctor?" asked Betty, over her shoulder. "Dr. Friedrich von Stein?"

"Von Stein?" repeated Parker, vaguely. "Don't know him. Anyhow, Idon't need a doctor. What in the world made you think of that?"

 * * * * *

"Nothing, except that I can see his house from here. He's taken whatthey call 'the old Reynolds place. ' You know--opposite the church. Welooked at it and thought it was too large for us. He's made a lot ofalterations. "

"Oh, yes!" Parker had placed the newcomer, more recent than himself. "I had an idea that he was a doctor of philosophy, not medicine. "

"He has half a dozen degrees, they say. Certainly he's a stunninglooking man. I saw him on the street. "

"Maybe he doesn't practice. " The artist was gazing, baffled and sickat heart, upon what he had wrought. "And what could he do, unless it'smy liver?"

"He might be a psycho-analyst, or something like that, " she replied, slowly. 

"But why the wild interest in this particular doctor?" Parker rousedhimself and looked at her. He felt irritable, and was ashamed of it. 

"Only for your work, " said Betty. A faint pink touched her cheeks. 

Allen Parker had a sudden feeling of certainty that his wife was lyingto him. To one who knew the Parkers it would have been equallyimpossible to think of Betty as lying, or of her husband as believingsuch a thing. Parker was outraged by his own suspicion. He sprang upand began to pace the floor. 

"All right, then!" he exploded. "My work is going to the dogs! Why, there's an appointment with Cartwright to-morrow to show him thesesketches, and the last few chapters I've done! We'll go now! If thisman can't do anything for me I'll try somebody else!"

 * * * * *

In ten minutes they were walking up the quiet street toward thepresent home of Dr. Friedrich von Stein. Despite his self-absorptionParker could not help noticing that his wife had never looked moreattractive than she did at this moment. Her color had deepened, littlewisps of hair curled against her cheeks, and there was a sparkle inher eyes which he knew came only on very particular occasions. 

Even from the outside it was apparent that many strange things hadbeen done to the staid and dignified house of Reynolds. A mass ofaerials hung above the roof. Some new windows had been cut at thesecond floor and filled with glass of a peculiar reddish-purple tinge. A residence had been turned into a laboratory, in sharp contrast tothe charming houses up and down the street and the church of graystone that stood opposite. 

Beside the door, at the main entrance, a modest plate bore the legend:"Dr. Friedrich von Stein. " Parker pressed the bell. Then he squaredhis broad shoulders and waited: a very miserable, very likeable youngman, with a finely shaped head and a good set of muscles under hiswell cut clothes. He had brought his sketches, but he wasuncomfortable with the portfolio under his arm. It seemed tocontaminate him. 

 * * * * *

The door opened to reveal a blocky figure of a man in a workman'sblouse and overalls. The fellow was pale of eye, towheaded; heappeared to be good natured but of little intelligence. The onlyremarkable thing about him was a livid welt that ran across one cheek, from nose to ear. Beside him a glossy-coated dachshund waggedfuriously, after having barked once as a matter of duty. 

"May we see Dr. Von Stein?" asked Parker. "If he is in?"

"I will ask the Herr Doktor if he iss in, " replied the man, stiffly. 

"_Dummkopf!_" roared a voice from inside the house. An instant laterman and dog shrank back along the hall and there appeared in theirplace one of the most striking personalities Allen Parker had everseen. 

Dr. Friedrich von Stein was inches more than six feet tall and hestood perfectly erect, with the unmistakable carriage of a welldrilled soldier. He was big boned, but lean, and every movement wasmade with military precision. More than any other feature his eyesimpressed Parker: they were steady, penetrating, and absolutely black. But for a thread of gray here and there his well-kept beard and hairwere black. He might have been any age from forty to sixty, sodeceptive was his appearance. 

"Come in, if you please, " he said, before Parker could speak. VonStein's voice was rich and deep, but with a metallic quality whichsomehow corresponded with his mechanical smile. Except for theguttural r's there was hardly a hint of the foreigner in his speech. "It is Mr. And Mrs. Parker, I believe? I am Dr. Von Stein. "

 * * * * *

He stood aside for them to pass into the hallway, and while theymurmured their thanks he shot a volley of German at the man, whom hecalled Heinrich. The frightened servant vanished; and the Parkers weretaken into a living room furnished carelessly, but in good enoughtaste. Betty took her place on a couch, to which the doctor led herwith a bow. Parker sank into an overstuffed chair not far from awindow. 

"I learned your names because of the beauty of madame, " said VonStein, as he stood looming above the mantel. Again he bowed. "Onecould not see her without wishing to know how such a charming womanwas called. You are my neighbors from down the street, I believe. "

"Yes, " replied Allen. He wanted to be agreeable, but found itdifficult. "And I think Mrs. Parker has developed a great admirationfor you. She persuaded me to come here to-day. Are you, by chance, apsycho-analyst? I don't even know that you are a doctor of medicine, but--"

"I know a very great deal about the human mind, " interrupted Dr. VonStein calmly. "I know a great deal about many things. I am not goingto practice medicine here in Pine Hills because I have research workto do, but I will help you if I can. What is your trouble?"

 * * * * *

The question brought back to Parker the mood of half an hour ago. Almost savagely he snapped the portfolio open and spread out a few ofhis recent drawings, with some of the earlier ones for comparison. 

"Look!" he cried. "These vicious things are what I am doing now! Ican't help myself! The pencil does not obey me! Apparently I have noemotional control. It's as though my normal ideas were shoulderedaside, like people in a crowd. And my writing to-day was as bad asthese illustrations. I'm doing a book. Consider these thingscarefully, Doctor. They are not obscene, except by inference. Theycan't be censored. The book would go through the mails. Yet they aredeadly! Look at my heroine in these two pictures. In one she islike--like violets! In the other she looks capable of any crime! Whatis she? A vampire, if there is such a thing? A witch? I can almostbelieve in demonology since I made these last drawings!"

Parker, in spite of his excitement, tried to read the face of Dr. Friedrich von Stein. He found nothing but the automatic smile uponthat mask. Yet it seemed to the artist that this time there was a hintof real pleasure in the curve of the lips. Was it possible that anyonecould like those drawings? Parker began to think that he was goinginsane. 

"This is most unfortunate for you, " rumbled the doctor. "I understand. But I trust that the condition can be remedied, if it persists. You, Mr. Parker, and you, Madame, do you understand something of physics, of psychology, of metaphysics?"

"I fear that I'm rather ignorant, " answered Betty. "Certainly I am incomparison with a man of your attainments. "

 * * * * *

Dr. Von Stein bowed. He turned his black eyes upon Parker. 

"And you, sir? I must adjust my explanation to--what shall I say? Toyour knowledge of the higher reaches of scientific thought?"

"Why, I majored in philosophy in college, " said Parker, hesitatingly. "But that's quite a time ago, Herr Doktor. Of course I've tried tokeep up with the conclusions of science. But a writer or a painterdoesn't have any too much opportunity. He has his own problems toconcern him. "

"Yes, indeed!" Dr. Von Stein was thoughtful. "So, and especially forthe benefit of madame, I shall speak in terms of the concrete. "

"Please consider me stupid!" begged Betty. "But I want to understand!"

"Certainly, except that you are not stupid, Madame. I will proceed. Both of you, I assume, know something of the radio? Very good! Youknow that an etheric wave transmits the message, and that it isreceived and amplified so that it is within the range of the humanear. These waves were there when paleolithic man hunted his meat witha stone-tipped club. To use them it was necessary to invent themicrophone, and a receiving instrument. 

"What I have said you already know. But here is what may startle you. Human thought is an etheric wave of the same essential nature as theradio wave. They are both electrical currents external to man. Thoughts sweep across the human mind as sound currents sweep acrossthe aerials of a radio--"

"I told you!" Allen Parker turned a triumphant face to his wife. "Pardon me, Herr Doktor! I have tried to convince Mrs. Parker that myidea came from outside!"

 * * * * *

"Exactly!" Dr. Von Stein took no offense. "And a difference betweenthe mind and the radio set is that with the radio you tune in uponwhatever you choose, and when you choose. The mind is not under suchcontrol, although it should be. It receives that to which it happensto be open. Or that thought which has been intensified andstrengthened by having been received and entertained by other minds. In India they say: 'Five thousand died of the plague and fiftythousand died of fear. ' Do you both follow me?"

It was unnecessary to ask. Betty sat on the edge of the couch, intentupon every word. Parker, although more restrained, was equallyinterested. Moreover he was delighted to have what he had feltinstinctively confirmed, in a way, by a man of science. 

"Herbert Spencer said, " continued the doctor, "that no thought, nofeeling, is ever manifested save as the result of a physical force. This principle will before long be a scientific commonplace. AndHuxley predicted that we would arrive at a mechanical equivalent ofconsciousness. But I will not attempt to bolster my position withauthorities. I know, and I can prove what I know. 

"You, Mr. Parker, have been receiving some particularly annoyingthoughts which have been intensified, it may be, by others, oranother. Human will power can alter the rate of vibration of the lineof force, or etheric wave. So-called good thoughts have a high rate ofvibration, and those which are called bad ordinarily have a low rate. Have you, perhaps, an enemy?"

"Not that I know of, " replied Parker, in a low voice. 

"Then it would follow that this is accidental. "

 * * * * *

"Good heavens! Do you mean to say that someone could do this to memaliciously?"

"So far my experiments leave something to be desired, " said Dr. VonStein, without answering directly. "No doubt you are peculiarlysusceptible to thoughts which bear in any way on your work. "

"But isn't there any help for it?" asked Betty. She was regarding herhusband with the eyes of a stranger. 

"I believe I can do something for Mr. Parker. "

There was a knock at the door. The doctor boomed an order to come in. Heinrich, with the dachshund at his heels, entered bearing a tray witha bottle of wine and some slices of heavy fruit cake. He drew out atable and placed the tray. 

"Do not bring that dog in when I have guests, " said Von Stein. Hespoke with a gleam of white teeth. "You know what will happen, Heinrich?"

"_Ja_, Herr Doktor! I take Hans oudt!" The man was terrified. Hegathered the dog into his arms and fairly fled from the room. Dr. VonStein turned with a smile. 

"I have to discipline him, " he explained. "He's a stupid fellow, butfaithful. I can't have ordinary servants about. There are scientificmen who would be willing to bribe them for a look at my laboratory. "

"I did not know such things were done among scholars, " said Betty, slowly. 

"What I have accomplished means power, Madame!" exclaimed the doctor. "There are jackals in every walk of life. If an unscrupulous man ofscience got into my laboratory, a physicist for instance, he might . .. Find out things!"

 * * * * *

Dr. Von Stein turned to his duties as host. He filled their glasses, and watched with satisfaction Betty's obvious enjoyment of the cake. Abox of mellow Havanas appeared from a cabinet: imported cigarettesfrom a smoking stand. But Parker, in spite of a liking for good wineand tobacco, was far too much concerned about his work to forget theerrand that had brought him there. 

"So you think, " he said, when there was opportunity, "that you canhelp me, Dr. Von Stein?"

"I can, " replied von Stein, firmly; "but before attempting anythingI'd like to wait a day or two. The attacking thoughts may become lessviolent, or your resistance greater, in either of which cases thecondition will fade out. You will either get better or much worse. Ifyou are worse come to see me again, and I promise you that I will dosomething!"

"I'll come, and thank you!" Parker felt better, and more cheerful thanhe had since the beginning of the disturbance. "Few things could makeme suffer so much as trouble with my work. "

"That is what I thought, " agreed Dr. Von Stein. 

 * * * * *

Betty rose. Her husband caught the look in her eyes as they met thebright, black gaze of Dr. Von Stein, and he went cold. That look hadalways been for him alone. Her feet seemed to linger on the way to thedoor. 

"He's wonderful!" she breathed, as they started down the uneventfulstreet. "Scientific things never interested me before. But he makesthem vital, living!"

"And yet, " said Parker, thoughtfully, "there's something uncanny aboutthat man!"

"Nonsense!" exclaimed Betty. "It's because he's a genius! Don't besmall, Allen!"

Parker gasped, and remained silent. He could not remember that hiswife had ever spoken to him in quite that way. They finished thelittle journey home without speaking again and Parker went directly tostudio. He sat down, with drooping shoulders, and considered the messhe had made of his book. Well, there was nothing to do but seeCartwright to-morrow and face the music!

Dinner that night was a mournful affair. The soft footsteps of theservant going in and out of the dining room, the ticking of the clock, were almost the only sounds. Betty was deep in her own thoughts;Parker was too miserable to talk. He went to bed early and lay staringinto the darkness for what seemed like an eternity of slow movinghours. 

The tall, deep voiced clock in the hall downstairs had just struckone when suddenly Parker's room was flooded with light. He sat up, blinking, and saw Betty standing near his bed. Her fingers twistedagainst each other; her face was drawn and white. 

"Allen!" she whispered. "I'm afraid!"

Instantly he was on his feet; his arms went around her and the yellowhead dropped wearily against his shoulder. 

"Afraid of what?" he cried. "What is it, sweetheart?"

"I don't know!" All at once her body stiffened and she pulled awayfrom him. Then she laughed--"What nonsense! I must have been having abad dream . .. It's nothing. Sorry I bothered you, Allen!"

She was gone before his could stop her. Bewildered, he did not knowwhether to follow. Better not, he thought. She would sleep now, andperhaps he would. But he was worried. Betty was becoming less and lesslike herself. 

 * * * * *

At last Parker did sleep, to awake shortly after daylight. He got ahasty breakfast and took an early train to New York. When JohnCartwright, a shrewd and kindly man well advanced in years, arrived athis office Allen Parker was right there waiting for him. 

Cartwright had shown a real affection for the younger man, a paternalinterest. He beamed, as usual, until he sat down with the newdrawings. Slowly the smile faded from his face. He went over themtwice, three times, and then he looked up. 

"My boy, " he said, "did you do these?"

"Yes. "

"Do you know that you are turning a delicate and beautiful romanceinto a lascivious libel on the human race?"

"It is being done, " replied Parker, in a low voice. "And I--I can'thelp myself!"

"What do you mean by that?"

"I mean that when I start to draw Madelon my hand produces that womanof Babylon! The writing is just as bad. It's full of sneering hints, double meanings . .. I shall destroy the stuff. I've been to see apsycho-analyst. "

"Ah!" thoughtfully. "Perhaps you're tired, Allen. Why not take Bettyfor a sea trip? There'll still be time for fall publication. "

"I'm going to try everything possible. I'd rather be dead than do worklike this!"

 * * * * *

When Parker left his friend he was somewhat encouraged. After thefirst shock Cartwright had been inclined to make light of thedifficulty, and by the time Allen Parker reached Pine Hills his stridehad the usual swing and snap. 

He ran up the steps of his house and burst into the living room with asmile. Betty was sitting by one of the windows, her hands lyingrelaxed in her lap. She turned a somber face toward her husband, andspoke before he had time to say a word of greeting. 

"You knew that Cordelia Lyman died a short time ago, didn't you?"

"What's that?" exclaimed Parker, bewildered. "Lyman? Oh, the old ladydown the street who left her money to found a home for aged spinsters?What about it?"

"But she didn't leave her money to found a home for aged spinsters, Allen. She had said she was going to, and everybody thought so. Herwill was admitted to probate, or whatever they call it, yesterday. Sheleft half a million, all she had, to Dr. Friedrich von Stein, to beused as he thinks best for the advancement of science!"

"Good heavens!" Parker stared. "Why, I didn't know she knew him. He'donly been here a week or so when she died. "

"There isn't a flaw in the will, they say. You can imagine that PineHills is talking!"

"Well, " said Parker philosophically, "he's lucky. I hope he doessomething with it. "

"He will, " replied Betty, with conviction. "He'll do a great manythings!"

 * * * * *

Parker told her of his interview with Cartwright, but she seemedlittle interested. He did not try to work that day but, after he hadput the offending drawings and manuscript out of sight, he wandered, read, smoked, and in the evening persuaded Betty to take a moonlightwalk with him. 

They passed the house of Dr. Von Stein, from which came a fainthumming that sounded like a dynamo. Across the street the church wasalight for some service. Triumphant music drifted to them. The moonhung above the spire, with its cross outlined darkly against thebrilliant sky. The windows were great jewels. Betty drew a deepbreath. 

"Sometimes, Allen, " she said, "I feel like praying!"

"You _are_ a beautiful prayer, " whispered Parker. 

She walked close to him, holding his arm, and repeated softly:

 "Are not two prayers a perfect strength? And shall I feel afraid?"

But that was the end of that mood. By the time they arrived home Bettywas again the strange, aloof, cold, slightly hard woman of the pastfew days. Again depression settled upon Allen Parker. 

 * * * * *

The next morning he breakfasted alone and went directly to the studio, without seeing Betty. Sun streamed into the room; the pencil movedswiftly. For a brief time Parker thought that he was himself again, asMadelon grew upon the block of paper. But the end was terrible. Thelast few strokes made her grotesque. This time the woman he had drawnwas not merely evil; she was a mocking parody of his heroine. He threwdrawing and pencil across the room. 

But no real artist can be discouraged short of death. He went to workagain and labored until luncheon time. The results were no better, although they varied. Now it seemed that some malevolent power wasplaying with him, torturing him to the accompaniment of devilishlaughter. He was haggard and actually stooped of body when he bathedhis face and went down to the dining room. From across the table Bettyregarded him curiously. 

"Fleming Proctor shot himself last night, " she announced, calmly. "This morning they found him dead in his office. "

"Proctor? You don't mean the president of the Pine Hills NationalBank?"

"Yes. " The expression of Betty's face did not change. "There was anote saying that he was sorry. It seems he'd made a large loan withoutsecurity to an unknown person, and the bank examiner was comingto-day. Proctor said he couldn't help what he did. The note wasconfused as though he were trying to tell something and couldn't. Theythink his mind must have given way, particularly as they can't tracethe loan, although the money is undoubtedly gone. "

 * * * * *

"That kind of thing doesn't happen!" Parker was stunned. He had knownFleming Proctor, and liked him. They met often at the country club. "Proctor was honest, and a fine business man!"

"It did happen, Allen!"

"I'd like to know more about it. That would have been a case for Dr. Von Stein to take in hand. "

"Perhaps, " said Betty, in a voice like ice. "But I'm more interestedin finding out how soon you are going to return to normal. Frankly, I'm beginning to get bored. "

Without a word Parker rose and left the room. Never before had hiswife hurt him like this. Doubly sensitive just now, he was sufferingalone in the studio when the telephone rang. 

"Dr. Von Stein speaking. Are you better, Mr. Parker?"

"Worse! Much worse!"

"Then come to my house this evening at nine. May I expect you? Andalone?"

"Yes. " There was much Parker wanted to say, but he choked the wordsback. "I'll be there, and alone. "

"I shall be ready for you. Good-by. "

Allen Parker hung up the receiver. He did not leave the studio againuntil evening. 

 * * * * *

As Parker approached the house of Dr. Friedrich von Stein he saw thatthe church was lighted as it had been the night before. In a clear skythe moon rode above the spire. He paused to let his glance sweep upalong the beautiful line that ran from earth to the slender cross. That was how he felt. He wanted to rise, as that line rose, fromcumbering earth to clarity and beauty. 

He mounted the steps and rang. Dr. Von Stein met him, with eyes andteeth agleam in the hall light. Wearily Parker stepped inside. Hismood of the moment before was fading. 

"Go upstairs to my laboratory, if you please, " said the doctor. "It isbest that I see you there, for it may be that you will needtreatment. "

"I need something, " replied Parker as he went up a long flight ofstairs. "I'm in a bad way. "

Without answer von Stein led him down a short corridor and held open adoor. Allen Parker stepped into a room that bewildered him with itsstrange contrasts. 

At a glance he saw that nearly the whole upper floor of the buildinghad been converted into one gigantic room. Near a big stone fireplace, where burning driftwood sent up its many tinted flames, Heinrich stoodrigidly at attention. Hans, the dachshund, crouched at his feet. Whenthe dog started to meet Parker a guttural command stopped him. 

Here there were bearskins on the floor, huge stuffed chairs, footrests, little tables, humidors, pipe racks, all that one coulddesire for comfort. Two German duelling swords were crossed above themantel. 

 * * * * *

But beyond this corner everything was different. Parker saw the massedwindows of reddish-purple glass; he saw apparatus for which he had noname, as well as some of the ordinary paraphernalia of the chemicallaboratory. There was wiring everywhere, and a multitude of lightingfixtures. Utilitarian tables, desks and chairs were placed about withmathematical precision. There were plates and strips of metal set intothe glass smooth flooring, which was broken by depressions andelevations of unusual form. 

The most striking thing in the room was a huge copper bowl that hunginverted from the ceiling. In it, and extending down below the rim, was what seemed to be a thick and stationary mist. It looked as thoughthe bowl had been filled with a silver gray mist and then turnedbottom side up. But the cloud did not fall or float away. 

"I can think and speak best from my desk, " Von Stein was saying. "Please sit down facing me in the chair which Heinrich will place foryou. Then we will talk. "

Heinrich rolled one of the overstuffed chairs noiselessly to aposition about six feet from the desk. Parker noticed a long metalstrip in the floor between him and the doctor. 

Just then Hans wriggled forward and the artist scratched his ears, tobe rewarded by a grateful tongue. Again a command from Heinrichbrought the dog to heel, but the voice was not so gruff this time. Together they returned to the fireplace. 

Von Stein let his hands rest upon the desk top--a surface covered withlevers, electric switches, push buttons, and contrivances the natureof which Parker could not guess. The doctor leaned forward. He threwover a switch. The lights in the room became less bright. He pressed abutton. The Danse Macabre of Saint-Saens floated weirdly upon theair, as though the music came from afar off. 

"Is that part of the treatment?" asked Parker, with a faint smile. "It's not cheering, exactly. "

"Merely an idiosyncrasy of mine, " answered Von Stein, showing histeeth. "Before anything is done I must, in order to aid thereceptivity of your mind, go a little further with the explanation ofcertain things which I mentioned the other day. I promise not to boreyou. More than that, Mr. Parker, I promise that you will be moreinterested than you have ever been in anything!"

 * * * * *

It seemed to Parker that there was something sinister in the mannerand speech of Dr. Von Stein. The Dance of Death! Did that music have ameaning? Impossible! It was only his own sick mind that was allowingsuch thoughts to come to him. 

"Anything that will help, " he murmured. 

"You have noticed that copper bowl?" Von Stein did not wait for areply. "The misty appearance inside and underneath it is given bythousands upon thousands of minute platinum wires. When it is in use aslight electrical current is passed through it, varying in poweraccording to the rate of vibration needed. That instrument, my dearsir, is a transmitter of thought. I may call it the microphone of themind. I can tune in on any mind in the world, by experimenting up anddown the vibration range to determine the susceptibility of theparticular person. The human mind does not need an amplifier, as theradio receiving set does. Rather, it acts as its own amplifier, oncehaving received the thought. I invented one, however, to prove that itcould be done. I equipped Heinrich with it and in half an hour bysuggestion reduced him to his present state of docile stupidity. Ihave, Mr. Parker, the means of moving people to do my bidding!"

 * * * * *

Von Stein stopped abruptly, as though for emphasis and to allow hisastounding statements to take effect. Parker sat stunned, strugglingto grasp all the implications of what he had just heard. Suddenly theybecame clear. He saw events in order, and in relation to each other. 

"So that's how it was with Cordelia Lyman!" he cried hoarsely, leaningforward. "And it was you who had that money from Fleming Proctor!"

"You are not unintelligent, " remarked Dr. Von Stein. "Better thatscience should have the Lyman money than a few old women of noparticular use. As for Proctor, he was a fool. I would have protectedhim. "

"And my pictures . .. My book. .. . "

"I can cure you, Mr. Parker. _If I will!_"

"And anyone is at the mercy of this man!" groaned Parker. 

"Not absolutely, I'm sorry to say, " said the doctor. "The action ofthought on the human consciousness is exactly like that of sound onthe tuning fork. When the mind is tuned right, we'll say forillustration, the lower vibrations are not picked out of the ether. But as few minds are tuned right, and as all vary from time to time, I'm practically omnipotent. "

"You have changed the nature of my wife!" Parker was getting hold ofhimself and he could speak with a degree of calmness. "That is a worsecrime than the one you've committed against me directly!"

"Mr. Parker, " said the doctor, impressively, "you are in a web. I amthe spider. You are the fly. I don't particularly desire to hurt you, but I want your wife. This is the crux of the matter. She is the womanto share my triumphs. Already I have aroused her interest. Give her upand you will continue your work as before. Refuse, and you will loseher just as certainly as though you give her to me. For, my dear sir, you will be insane in less than a month from now. I promise youthat!"

 * * * * *

Allen Parker was not one to indulge in melodrama. For a long moment hesat looking into the black eyes of Von Stein. Then he spoke carefully. 

"If my wife of her own will loved you, and wanted freedom, I'd let hergo. But this is a kind of hypnosis. It's diabolical!"

"Who but the devil was the father of magic?" asked the doctor, cheerfully. "Hypnosis is unconsciously based on a scientific principlewhich I have mastered. Repeated advertising of a tooth brush or a boxof crackers is mild mental suggestion--hypnosis, if you will. My dearfellow, be sensible!"

"Sophistry!" growled Parker. 

Von Stein laughed. He moved a lever upon a dial and a sheet of blueflame quivered between them. With another movement of the lever itvanished. 

"I could destroy you instantly, " he said, "and completely, and no onecould prove a crime! I shall not do it. I have no time to be botheredwith investigations. Think of the fate I have promised you. Think, andyou will give her up!"

"I shall not!" Parker wiped cold drops from his forehead. The doctorfrowned thoughtfully. 

"I'll intensify her desire to come here to-night, " he said. "Sheherself will persuade you. "

 * * * * *

Parker set his fingers into the arms of his chair as Von Stein roseand walked to the copper bowl. He stood directly under it, and put ongoggles with shields fitting close to his feet. At the pressure of hisfoot a tablelike affair rose from the floor in front of him. This, like the desk, was equipped with numerous dials, buttons and levers. Von Stein manipulated them. The great cap of copper descended untilhis head was enveloped by the mist of platinum wires. A faint humminggrew in the room. A tiny bell tinkled. 

"The connection is made, " murmured Von Stein. He lifted a hand forsilence: then his fingers leaped among the gadgets on the table. Afterthat came a brief period, measured by seconds, of immobility. Then thetable sank from view, the copper bowl lifted, and Dr. Von Stein wentback to his chair. 

"She will be here shortly, " he said. "If that does not change yourmind. .. . "

He shrugged. Parker knew what that shrug meant. He searched his mindfor a plan and found none. Better die fighting than yield, or risk thevengeance of Friedrich von Stein. If he could get the doctor away fromthe desk where he controlled the blue-white flame there might be achance to do something. Von Stein was by far the larger man, butParker had been an athlete all his life. If. .. . 

"That mass of copper and platinum, " he said, tentatively, "will makeyou master of the world!"

"My brain, my intelligence, has made me master of the world!"corrected Von Stein, proudly. He was touched in the right spot now. "You have not seen all!"

 * * * * *

He sprang up and went to one of the tables. From his pocket he took apiece of paper and crumpled it into a ball while, with the other hand, he made some electrical connections to a plate of metal set into thesurface of the table. Next he placed the wad of paper on the plate. Then, standing at arm's length from the apparatus, he pressed abutton. Instantly the paper disappeared behind a screen of the colorsof the spectrum, from red to violet. The banded colors were there fora minute fraction of a second. Then there was nothing where the paperhad been on the plate. Von Stein smiled as he stepped away from thetable. 

"The electron is formed by the crossing of two lines of force, " hesaid, "and the interaction of positive and negative polarity. Theelectron is a stress in the ether, nothing more, but it is the stuffof which all matter is made. Thought is vibration in one dimension;matter in two. You have just seen me untie the knot, dissociate theelectrons, or what you will. In plain language I have caused matter tovanish utterly. That paper is not burned up. It no longer exists inany form. The earth upon which we stand, Parker, can be dissolved likemist before the sun!"

Appalled as he was at this man who boasted and made good his terribleboasts Allen Parker had not forgotten the purpose that was in him. Nowwas his chance, while Von Stein stood smiling triumphantly betweentable and desk. 

Parker shot from his chair with the speed of utter desperation. Hefeinted, and drove a vicious uppercut to the jaw of Dr. Friedrich vonStein. The doctor reeled but he did not go down. His fists swung. Parker found him no boxer, and beat a tattoo upon his middle. VonStein began to slump. 

Then two thick muscled arms closed around the artist from behind andhe was lifted clear of the floor. He kicked, and tried to turn, but itwas useless. The doctor recovered himself. His eyes blazed fury. 

"Put him in the chair, Heinrich!" he roared. "For this I will show youwhat I can do, Herr Parker!"

 * * * * *

At that instant little Hans, who had been yelping on the edge of thebattle, dashed in. He leaped for the throat of Von Stein. The doctorkicked him brutally. 

The shriek of agony from Hans loosened the arms of Heinrich. Parkergot his footing again. He saw the clumsy serving man spring forwardand gather his dog up to his breast. Again Parker rushed for hisenemy. 

It was clear now that Von Stein was cut off from the controls hewanted, and without Heinrich he could not master Parker in a fight. For an instant he stood baffled. Then he retreated the length of theroom, taking what blows he could not beat off. He staggered upon aplate of metal set into the floor, righted himself, and failed in anattempt to catch hold of Parker. Suddenly he bowed in the direction ofthe distant doorway. 

Allen half turned. Betty was coming down the room, staring andbreathless. 

"_Leben sie wohl!_" cried Von Stein. "Farewell, Madame! I should liketo take you with me!"

A great flash of the colors of the spectrum sent Parker reeling back. Dr. Friedrich von Stein had gone the way of the crumpled ball ofpaper. 

There was a long moment of silence. Then Allen Parker found his wifein his arms, clinging to him. 

"'Are not two prayers a perfect strength?'" she murmured, sobbingagainst his heart. 

A HUNDRED MILES UNDERGROUND

Scientists bidding their families good-by in the morning to drop fiftyor a hundred miles underground in high speed elevators, there toundertake researches not possible nearer to the earth's surface, maybe realities of the next decade or two if some wealthy individual orinstitution accepts the recommendation of Dr. Harlow Shapley, distinguished astronomer of Harvard, in a talk recently before theAmerican Geographical Society. 

The earth's interior, Dr. Shapley said, is the "third dimension" ofgeography. Exploration of the planet's surface soon must cease fromlack of places to explore. Even the upper air is coming to bereasonably well known scientifically, thanks to instruments sent upwith balloons and to the radio and other investigators who have beenuncovering secrets of upper-air electricity. But the interior of theearth is still one of the great mysteries. It is a paradox ofastronomy that much more is known about the center of the sun or astar like Sirius than about the center of the earth. 

Deep shafts of bore holes into the earth have been suggested often assources of heat for human use. It is doubtful, however, whether suchheat supplies could be obtained. For one thing, the supposed internalheat of the earth is still nothing but a guess. It may be that therelatively slight increases of heat found as one goes deeper inexisting mines are due to radioactivity in the rocks instead of tooutward seepage from the internal fires. Another difficulty aboututilizing earth heat is that heat moves so slowly through substanceslike rock, as any housewife can prove by trying to fry an egg on abrick placed over a gas flame. As soon as the rock heat immediately atthe bottom of a bore hole had been exhausted heat supply would stopuntil more could diffuse in from the sides. 

Dr. Shapley's suggestion, in any event, is not to search for heat butfor facts. Even in existing, relatively shallow mines, he believes, scientific laboratories at different depths under the surface mightyield valuable data not now obtainable. Most scientific men willagree. Revolutionary as the idea may seem to those familiar only withthe standardized laboratories of physics or chemistry, there are soundreasons why a half-dozen or so of the sciences should do preciselywhat Dr. Shapley suggests. 

At least one underground laboratory has already been installed, forProf. E. B. Babcock of the University of California has such aworkroom in the Twin Peaks Tunnel, underneath the mountain that risesabove the city of San Francisco. Natural radioactivity in the rocksthereabouts is greater than normal and Prof. Babcock finds that thisapparently increases new species among fruit flies. 

To dig out laboratory rooms a mile or so down in existing deep minesprobably would cost far less than many enterprises already financed byphilanthropists. Even to deepen these shafts for several miles wouldbe much less difficult than most people imagine. 

Increasing heat, if it is found that heat does increase, would not bedifficult to overcome had the engineers sufficient money. Ventilationand transportation to and from the surface, while too costly for thebusiness enterprise of winning metals from very deep mines, probablywould present no serious difficulty were facts the chief objectinstead of profit. The only question to be decided before intendingbenefactors of science are urged to consider some such project iswhether or not the facts likely to be won promise enough value tomankind. 

An excellent case can be made out for answering yes. Dr. Shapleymentioned four chief lines of investigation suitable for suchdeep-mine laboratories: studies of gravity and of the variable lengthof the day, researches on the various kinds of earthquake waves, experiments on ether drift and tests of the biological effects ofcosmic rays and of the rays from radium. 

Astronomical theories indicate that the day ought to be growingslightly longer as the earth's rotation decreases a trifle fromcentury to century because of friction from the tides. The actuallength of the days seems, however, sometimes to be decreasing a tinyfraction of a second from year to year, as theory says that it should;sometimes to be increasing in a way for which no present theoryprovides. Observations underneath the earth, with a portion of theplanet's crust and gravity overhead, might yield important clues tothe cause of this mysterious wrong time kept by the terrestrialclock. 

The Gray Plague

_By L. A. Eshbach_

[Sidenote: Maimed and captive, in the depths of an interplanetarymeteor-craft, lay the only possible savior of plague-ridden Earth. ]

[Illustration: _They were almost upon him when he leaped intoaction. _]

CHAPTER I

Five months before the beginning of that period of madness, that timeof chaos and death that became known as the Gray Plague, the first ofthe strange meteors fell to Earth. It landed a few miles west of ElPaso, Texas, on the morning of March 11th. 

In a few hours a great throng of people gathered around the dullysmoldering mass of fire-pitted rock, the upper half of which protrudedfrom the Earth where it had buried itself, like a huge, roughlyoutlined hemisphere. And then, when the crowd had assumed itsgreatest proportions, the meteor, with a mighty, Earth-shaking roar, exploded. 

A vast flood of radiance, more brilliant than the light of the sun, lit up the sky for miles around. One moment, a throng of curiouspeople, a number of scientists, newspaper men--a crashingexplosion--and then a great, yawning pit sending forth a blindingradiance! Destruction and death where life had been. 

The brilliant light streamed from the pit for about ten minutes; thenlike a snuffed-out candle flame, it vanished. 

The second of the strange meteors landed on the evening of March 13th, in the city of Peking, China. It demolished several buildings, andburied itself beneath the ruins. The Chinese, unaware of the tragedyat El Paso, gathered in the vicinity, and when the meteor exploded atabout ten o'clock that night, were instantly destroyed. As in Texas, the great pit emitted a cloud of dazzling light for about ten minutes, throwing a brilliant glow over the city and its surroundings; thenwas extinguished. 

The people of the world awoke to the fact that events worthy of morethan passing interest were occurring. The press of every nation begingiving the strange meteors more and more publicity. Statements ofdifferent pseudo-scientists were published in explanation of themeteor's origin, statements that aroused world wide conjecture. 

 * * * * *

Approximately twenty-four hours after the falling of the secondmissile, the third one fell, landing near Madrid, Spain. TheSpaniards, having received news of the El Paso and Peking tragedies, avoided the ugly mass of rock as though it were a dreaded pestilence. In every way its action was similar to that of its two predecessors. 

The interest of the world was doubled now. The unusual similarity ofthe action of the meteors, and the regularity of their landings, seemed indicative of a definite, hostile purpose behind it all. Amenace from the unknown--a peril from the skies!

Scientists began giving serious consideration to the unusualphenomenon, pottering around in the pits, wearing airs of puzzlement. But their investigations were of no avail, for nothing of any greatsignificance came to light through their efforts. 

At about that time, an announcement was made that created a furor. Astronomers in different parts of the United States reported that theyhad observed a bright flare of light leaping up from the darkenedportion of the planet Venus. The astronomers had no definite idea ofanything of importance in back of what they had seen; but not so themasses. The flare, they said, was caused by the release of anothermeteor!

From Venus! Missiles, hurled by Venerians, menacing the Earth! Thesilver planet became the subject of universal discussion; innumerablefantastic articles about it appeared in magazine sections of Sundaynewspapers. And the astronomers of Earth turned their telescopestoward Venus with an interest they had never felt before. 

 * * * * *

Four days of expectant waiting passed by after the third meteor hadfallen, while interest continued mounting at an accelerating pace. Andthen, at about two o'clock in the morning of the 18th, three greatobservatories, two in North America and one in England, recorded thefalling of an extraordinarily large and unusually brilliant meteorthat glowed with an intense, bluish-white light as it entered theEarth's atmosphere. And, unlike most meteors, this one was notconsumed by its intense heat, but continued gleaming brilliantly untilit vanished below the horizon. Simultaneous with the falling of themeteor, the Earth was rocked by one of the worst quakes in history. 

Seismographs in all parts of the world recorded the tremors of theEarth, each indicating that the disturbance had occurred somewherebeneath the Atlantic ocean. Evidently the fourth meteor had falleninto the ocean, for the shaking of the Earth was obviously the resultof the collision. That quakes had not followed the landing of thefirst three was due to the fact that they had been far smaller thanthe fourth. 

And then, a short time after the earthquake, the worst storm in twohundred years broke over the Atlantic. Waves, mountain high, piledthemselves upon each other in a wild frenzy; a shrieking wind lashedthe waters into a liquid chaos. Great ocean-liners were tossed aboutlike tiny chips; an appalling number of smaller ships were lost inthat insane storm. 

Nor was the destruction confined to the sea, for all along theAtlantic coast of North America and Europe, mighty walls of waterrushed in, and wrecked entire towns and cities. 

Fortunately the storm was of short duration; a few hours after itbegan, it subsided. 

For a number of weeks public attention was centered upon the meteorsand storm; but gradually, when nothing further occurred, the fickleinterest of the masses began to wane. A month after the storm, thestrange meteors were no longer mentioned by the press, andconsequently, had passed from the public mind. Only the astronomersremembered, keeping their telescopes trained on Venus night afternight. 

Four months passed by during which nothing of an unusual nature cameto the attention of the world. But at the end of that time, itsuddenly dawned upon those nations whose shores touched the Atlanticocean, that something extraordinary was happening. It was taking placeso insidiously, so quietly, that it had attracted no great attention. 

A series of inexplicable sea disasters had begun. Every ship that hadtraveled over a certain, regular steamship route, had disappeared, leaving no trace. Mysteriously, without warning, they had vanished;without a single S O S being sent, seven freighters had been lost. Thedisappearances had been called to the world's attention by theshipping companies, alarmed at the gradual loss of their boats. 

Then other mysterious vanishings came to the attention of the world. Ships in all parts of the Atlantic were being lost. When this factbecame known, trans-Atlantic commerce ceased almost over night. Withthe exception of a few privately owned yachts and freighters, theAtlantic became deserted. 

And finally, a few days after the world became aware of the strangedisappearances on the Atlantic, the Gray Plague introduced itself tohumanity. Attempts were made to repress the facts: but the tragedy ofthe freighter, _Charleston_, in all its ghastliness and horror, becameknown in spite of all attempts at secrecy. 

On the morning of August 3rd, the _Charleston_ was found, half buriedin the sand of a beach on the coast of Florida, cast there, evidently, by a passing storm. The freighter had been one of the first boats todisappear. 

When the ship's discoverers boarded her, their eyes were greeted by asight whose ghastliness filled them with a numbing horror. Indeed, soterrifying was the spectacle on the _Charleston_, that thediscoverers, four boys of adolescent age, left in fear-stricken haste. Nor could they be induced to return to the ship's deck. 

 * * * * *

Later, a group of men from a nearby town boarded the freighter toinvestigate the boys' amazing report. In the group was a newspaperreporter who chanced to be in the vicinity on a minor story. It wasthrough the reporter's account that the facts became known as quicklyas they did. 

When the men clambered up the side of the _Charleston_ to her deck, they saw a spectacle the like of which had never before been seen onEarth. Although they had been prepared for the horror to some extentby the story of the boys, the sight on the _Charleston_ exceeded theirdescription to such a degree that, for the moment, the men wererendered speechless. 

The deck of the _Charleston_ was a shambles--a scene of sudden, chilling death. All about were strewn gray, lifeless bodies. Death hadovertaken the crew in the midst of their duties, suddenly, withoutwarning, it seemed. Bodies strewn about--yet nowhere was there sign ofdecay! Bodies, lifeless for days, or weeks--yet intact!

The men were fearfully impressed by the strangely grotesque positionsof the corpses. With a few exceptions, they lay on the deck inabnormal, twisted masses of gray covered flesh. Somehow, they seemedflattened, as though they had been soft, jellylike, and had flowed, had settled, flat against the deck. Some were no more than threeinches thick, and had spread out to such an extent that they lookedlike fantastic caricatures of human bodies. That unnatural change intheir structure, and the ghastly, dead-gray color of their skins gavethe corpses a horrifying, utterly repulsive appearance that made theflesh of the men crawl. 

The bodies had a strangely soft aspect, as though they were stilljellylike. One of the men, bolder than the rest, touched a body--andwithdrew his hand in revulsion and surprise. For the ugly mass wascold, and as hard as bone: the tissues of the flesh seemingly replacedby a solid, bony substance. Later investigation revealed that all thedead on the _Charleston_ had assumed a similar, bonelike solidity. 

When the men left the freighter to report the tragedy to the properauthorities, their faces were blanched, and their nerves badly shaken. Yet their horror was nothing when compared with what it would havebeen, had they known what was to follow. 

 * * * * *

Rapidly the story of the_ Charleston_ spread. By means of the press, over the radio, even by word of mouth, the story of the horror on thefreighter was given publicity. All over the United States and Canadait spread, and from thence to the rest of the world. Eagerly was thestory accepted: here, at last, was the explanation of the seadisasters! And then, more than ever before, was the Atlantic oceanshunned. 

The bodies of the seamen on the freighter were turned over toscientists for experimentation and research. It was thought that theymight be able to discover the cause of the Gray Death, and with aknowledge of its cause, create something with which to free theAtlantic from its scourge. 

The scientists' investigations only served to mystify the world to agreater degree. The only thing that came to light was the cause of thebodies' bonelike rigidity. In some inexplicable way the bones in theseamen had dissolved, and according to appearances, while the bodieswere plastic, had flattened out. And then, strange and unnaturalthough it seemed, the calcium from the dissolved bones had gathered atthe surface of each body, and combining with the flesh and skin, hadformed the hard, bony shell that gave them their ghastly grayness, andtheir appearance of petrification. Aside from this, the scientistslearned nothing; the cause of this amazing phenomenon was a completemystery to them. 

Slowly, methodically, step by step, the unusual had been taking place. From the time of the landing of the first strange meteor, up to thediscovery of the _Charleston_, there had been a gradual increase inthe significance of each succeeding event. 

Then finally came the climax: the Gray Plague itself. All thatpreceded it faded into significance before the horror of the dreadpestilence that seized the world with its destroying talons. 

 * * * * *

A short time after the discovery of the _Charleston_, the Plague madeits first appearance on land. Slowly, pitilessly, inexorably, itbegan, taking its toll all along the Atlantic coast. From Newfoundlandto Brazil; from the British Isles to Egypt, wherever people lived nearthe ocean, thousands were stricken with the dread malady. 

The old and infirm were the most quickly affected; their weakenedbodies could not withstand the ravage of the Plague as could those ofyounger people. An old man, walking along a large thoroughfare inSavannah, Georgia, suddenly uttered a fearful shriek and sank to thepavement. While the pedestrians watched with bulging eyes, he seemedto shrink, to flatten, to flow liquidly, turning a ghastly gray. Within an hour he was as hard as the men of the _Charleston_. Of allthe millions, perhaps he was the first. 

Others followed in the wake of the first victim, young as well as old;three hours after the death in Savannah, every channel ofcommunication was choked with news of a constantly increasing numberof casualties. A Boston minister, preaching a funeral sermon, collapsing beside the coffin; a lineman on a telegraph pole, overcome, falling--and splashing! A thousand incongruous tragedies shockinghumanity. 

In Europe the action of the Plague was the same as in North America. Death stalking the sea-coast, destroying thousands; ignorantfishermen, men of learning, women and children of every age--all weregrist to be ground in the mill of the Gray Plague. 

Before a week had gone by, no one remained alive in the villages, towns and cities all along the Atlantic. New York, London, all thelarge coast cities were deserted by the living, left to the rigiddead. From the largest metropolis to the smallest hamlet, all becamebody-glutted tombs. 

And then, on the morning of October 12th, news was given to the worldthat threw mankind into a panic. The Plague was moving inland! Slowly, yet relentlessly it spread, no longer confining its effect to thesea-coast, but moving farther and farther inland toward the heart ofthe two continents, driving mankind before it. For people fled ininsane terror before the advancing death. Nor was there escape fromthe menace--no antidote to counteract, no sanctuary wherein to hide. 

To North and South, to East and West, the pestilence spread, destroying as it went. Unless there were some miraculous intervention, the human race would be destroyed!

 * * * * *

Officials of the world were at their wits' end; scientists threw up theirhands in despair. The Plague was an insoluble puzzle--enigmatical, utterlyinexplicable, beyond the knowledge of Earth. 

Scientists and doctors were brutally slain during that period byfear-crazed mobs, because of their inability to rescue the world fromthe grip of the Plague. Thousands of people died while striving toescape from the Gray Death, crushed by passing motor vehicles, orstarving in the congested areas. Gone was the boasted civilization ofman--humanity sinking rapidly to the level of the beast; gone, destroyed in a few weeks!

And then one day when the end seemed perilously close, there wasushered into the presence of the remnant of the United Statesofficials who had gathered in San Francisco, a twisted monstrosity ofa man, fearfully scarred and deformed. He was closeted with them fortwo hours. At the end of that time an excited official communicatedwith the leader of the American scientists. 

"A cure for the Plague has been discovered!" he cried in joyful tones. "Man still has a chance!"

Before an hour had passed by, scientists were in possession ofcultures of germs that would destroy the bacilli of the Gray Death. The hope of salvation restored some semblance of order; and in a veryshort time the development of the germs was going forward as rapidlyas skilled bacteriologists could carry it. Forces of doctors weremarshalled to administer the cure, inoculating all who were untouchedby the Plague. 

At about that time, a small, bronze-colored sphere arose into the airabove San Francisco, and sped eastward with amazing velocity. Itflashed over the United States, over the Atlantic ocean, and overwestern Europe, finally landing in the midst of the European hordes. There its operator, a deformed cripple, left bacteria similar to thosehe had given to the United States. 

In a short time Europe, too, was busily engaged in developing thebacteria, and inoculating her people. 

Many others died before the world was rendered immune, but at lastmankind let its labors cease. The Gray Plague was overcome. 

Then the work of reclaiming the deserted areas was begun; then, too, was started the ghastly task of disposing of the countless, rigiddead. And finally, a great steamer left New York harbor, and startedacross the Atlantic. It was the purpose of the men on board to destroyutterly the source of the Plague. 

But long before that occurred, humanity had heard the story of PhillipParkinson, the man who saved the world--had heard, and had honored thedeliverer of mankind. 

Parkinson's story follows:

CHAPTER II

The steam yacht, Diana, bound for the Azores and points south, was twodays out from Miami when the great meteor fell into the Atlantic. Onthe after deck, leaning over the rail, watching the moonlit waters, stood Phillip Parkinson, owner of the yacht. A bacteriologist ofinternational fame was Parkinson, on an early vacation to recuperatefrom the effects of a strenuous winter of research. Nervous, ratherhigh-strung, he had been unable to sleep; at about one in the morningof the 18th of March, he had come up on deck. 

He had stood there for about an hour when suddenly there appeared inthe sky above him, a meteor, a great disc of blue-white incandescence. It seemed to be rushing straight down toward him; instinctively heleaped back, as though to avoid the fiery missile. 

As the constantly expanding disc flashed through the hundred miles ofEarth's atmosphere, the ocean, as far as eye could see, became aslight as day. Bathed in that baleful, white glare, Parkinson, bewildered, dazed, half-blinded, watched the approaching stellarvisitant. 

In a few moments it struck--no more than two miles away. In the last, bright flare of blue-white light, Parkinson saw a gigantic column ofsteam and boiling water leap up from the sea. Then thick, impenetrabledarkness fell--darkness that was intensified by its contrast with themeteor's blinding light. 

For ten tense, breathless seconds utter silence hung over the sea . .. Then, for those on the yacht, the world went mad! A shrill, unearthlyshriek--the sound of the meteor's passage through the atmosphere; anear-splitting roar, as of the simultaneous release of thethunder-drums of ages; a howling demon of wind; a solid wall ofraging, swirling water of immeasurable height--all united in anindescribable chaos that bewildered those on board the Diana, and thatlifted the yacht and--threw it upon its side!

When the first rushing mountain of lathering, thundering water crashedupon the yacht, Parkinson felt himself hurtling through the roaringair. For a moment he heard the infernal pandemonium of noise . .. Thenthe strangling, irresistible brine closed over his head. 

A blackness deeper than that of the night--and Parkinson knew nomore. .. . 

 * * * * *

Slowly consciousness returned to the bacteriologist. It came under theguise of a dull, yet penetrating throbbing coming from beneath thesurface on which he lay. Vaguely he wondered at it; he had not yetentirely cast off the enshrouding stupor that gripped him. 

Gradually he came into full possession of his faculties--and becameaware of a dull aching throughout his entire body. In his chest itseemed to be intensified; every breath caused a sharp pang of pain. 

Faltering and uncertain, he arose and peered around. Before, lay theopen sea, calm now, and peaceful. Long, rolling swell swept in anddashed themselves against the rocks a few feet away. Rocks? For amoment Parkinson stared at the irregular shore-line in dazed wonder. Then as his mind cleared, the strangeness of his position flashed uponhim. 

Solid earth was under his feet! Although he must be hundreds of milesfrom shore, in some way he had drifted upon land. So far as he knew, there were no islands in that part of the Atlantic; yet his veryposition belied the truth. He could not have drifted to the mainland;the fact that he was alive precluded all possibilities of that, for hewould have drowned in far less time than the latter thought implied. 

He turned and inspected the land upon which he had been cast. A small, barren island, bleak and inhospitable, and strangely metallic, met hisgaze. The rays of the sun beating down upon it were thrown back withan uncomfortable intensity; the substance of the island was alustrous, copperlike metal. No soil softened the harshness of thesurface; indescribably rugged and pitted was the two hundred-footexpanse. It reminded Parkinson of a bronze relief-map of the moon. 

For a moment he puzzled over the strangeness of the unnatural island;then suddenly he realized the truth. This was the meteor! Obviously, this was the upper side of the great sphere from space, protrudingabove the sea. 

 * * * * *

Fortunate for him that the meteor had not been completely covered bywater, he thought--but was it fortunate? True, he was alive now, thanks to the tiny island, but how long would he remain alive withoutfood or water, and without hope of securing either? Unless he would bepicked up by a passing steamer, he would die a far more unpleasantdeath than that of drowning. Some miracle had saved him from a waterygrave; it would require another to rescue him from a worse fate. 

Even now he was beginning to feel thirsty. He had no way ofdetermining how long he had been unconscious, but that it was at leastten hours, he was certain, for the sun had been at its zenith when hehad awakened. No less than fifteen hours had gone by sincewater--other than that of the sea--had passed his lips. And the factthat it was impossible for him to quench his thirst only served torender it more acute. 

In order to take his mind from thoughts of his thirst and of theimmediate future, he rapidly circled the island. As he had expected, it was utterly barren. With shoulders drooping in despair he settledwearily to a seat on the jagged mass of metal high up on top of themeteor. 

An expression of sudden interest lit up his face. For a second time hefelt that particular throbbing, that strange pulsing beneath thesurface of the meteor. But now it was far more noticeable than before. It seemed to be directly below him, and very close to the surface. 

Parkinson could not tell how long he sat there, but from theappearance of the sun, he thought that at the very shortest, an hourpassed by while he remained on that spot. And during that time, thethrobbing gradually increased until the metal began vibrating underhis feet. 

Suddenly the bacteriologist leaped aside. The vibrating had reachedits height, and the meteor seemed to lurch, to tilt at a sharp angle. His leap carried him to firm footing again. And then, his thirst andhopeless position completely forgotten, Parkinson stared infascination at the amazing spectacle before him. 

 * * * * *

An eighteen-foot disc of metal, a perfect circle, seemed to have beencut out of the top of the meteor. While he watched, it began turningslowly, ponderously, and started sinking into the meteor. As it sank, Parkinson fancied that it grew transparent, and gradually vanishedinto nothingness--but he wasn't sure. 

A great pit, eighteen feet wide, but far deeper, lay before him in thevery place where, not more than ten minutes before, he had stood. Nota moment too soon had he leaped. 

Motionless he stood there, waiting in tense expectation. What wouldhappen next, he had not the least idea, but he couldn't prevent hisimagination from running riot. 

He hadn't long to wait before his watching was rewarded. A few minutesafter the pit appeared, he heard a loud, high-pitched whir coming fromthe heart of the meteor. As it grew louder, it assumed a higher andstill higher key, finally rising above the range of human ears. And atthat moment the strange vehicle arose to the surface. 

A simple-appearing mechanism was the car, consisting of a twelve-footsphere of the same bronze-like metal that made up the meteor, with ahuge wheel, like a bronze cincture, around its middle. It was thewhirling of this great wheel that had caused the high-pitchedwhirring. The entire, strange machine was surrounded by a peculiargreen radiance, a radiance that seemed to crackle ominously as thesphere hovered over the mouth of the pit. 

For a moment the car hung motionless, then it drifted slowly to thesurface of the meteor, landing a few feet away from Parkinson. Hastilyhe drew back from the greenly phosphorescent thing--but not before hehad experienced an unpleasant prickling sensation over his entirebody. 

As the bacteriologist drew away, there was a sharp, audible clickwithin the interior of the sphere; and the green radiance vanished. Atthe same moment, three heavy metal supports sprang from equi-distantpoints in the sides of the car, and held the sphere in a balancedposition on the rounded top of the meteor. 

There was a soft, grating sound on the opposite side of the car. Quickly, Parkinson circled it--and stopped short in surprise. 

 * * * * *

Men were descending from an opening in the side of the sphere!Parkinson had reasoned that since the meteor had come from the depthsof space, any being in its interior, unnatural as that seemed, wouldhave assumed a form quite different from the human. Of course, conditions on Earth could be approximated on another planet. At anyrate, whatever the explanation, the sphere was emitting men!

They were men--but there was something queer about them. They werevery tall--seven feet or more--and very thin; and their skins were adelicate, transparent white. They looked rather ghostly in theirtight-fitting white suits. It was not this that made them seem queer, however: it was an indefinite something, a vague suggestion ofheartless inhumanity, of unearthliness, that was somehow repulsive andloathsome. 

There were three of them, all very similar in appearance and bearing. Their surprise at the sight of Parkinson, if anything, was greaterthan the start their appearance had given him. He, at least, hadexpected to see beings of some sort, while the three had been takencompletely by surprise. 

For a moment they surveyed him with staring, cold-blue eyes. ThenParkinson extended his hand, and as cordially as he could, exclaimed:

"Hello! Welcome to Earth!"

The visitors from space ignored his advances and continued staring athim. Their attitude at first was quizzical, speculative, but slowly ahostile expression crept into their eyes. 

Suddenly, with what seemed like common consent, they faced each other, and conversed in low tones in some unintelligible tongue. For almost aminute they talked, while Parkinson watched them in growingapprehension. 

Finally they seemed to have reached some definite conclusion; with oneaccord they turned and moved slowly toward the bacteriologist, something distinctly menacing in their attitudes. The men from themeteor were tall, but they were thin; Parkinson, too, was large, andhis six-foot length was covered with layers of solid muscle. As thethree advanced toward him, he doubled his fists, and crouched inreadiness for the expected attack. 

 * * * * *

They were almost upon him when he leaped into action. A crushing leftto his stomach sent the first one to the meteor-top, where he laydoubled up in pain. But that was the only blow that Parkinson struck;in a moment he found himself lying prone upon his back, utterlyhelpless, his body completely paralyzed. What they had done to him, hedid not know; all that he could remember was two thin bodies twiningthemselves around him--a sharp twinge of pain at the base of hisskull; then absolute helplessness. 

One of the tall beings grasped Parkinson about the waist, and withsurprising strength, threw him over his shoulder. The other assistedhis groaning fellow. When the latter had recovered to some extent, thethree ascended the ladder that led into the metal sphere. 

The interior of the strange vehicle, as far as Parkinson could see, was as simple as its exterior. There was no intricate machinery of anysort in the square room; probably what machinery there was lay betweenthe interior and exterior walls of the sphere. As for controls, theseconsisted of several hundred little buttons that studded one of thewalls. 

When they entered the vehicle, Parkinson was literally, and none toogently, dumped upon the floor. The man who had carried him steppedover to the controls. Like those of a skilled typist, his long, thinfingers darted over the buttons. In a moment the sphere was in motion. 

There were no more thrills for Parkinson in that ride than he wouldhave derived from a similar ride in an elevator. They sank very slowlyfor some minutes, it seemed to him; then they stopped with a barelynoticeable jar. 

The door of the car was thrust aside by one of the three, andParkinson was borne from the sphere. A bright, coppery light floodedthe interior of the meteor, seeming to radiate from its walls. In hishelpless state, and in the awkward position in which he was carried, with his head close to the floor, he could see little of the roomthrough which they passed, in spite of the light. Later, however, helearned that it was circular in shape, and about twice the diameter ofthe cylindrical tube that led into it. The wall that bound thischamber was broken at regular intervals by tall, narrow, doorways, each leading into a different room. 

Parkinson was carried into one of these, and was placed in ahigh-backed metal chair. After he had been strapped fast, one of themen placed his hands at the base of the bacteriologist's skull; hefelt a sudden twinge of pain; and his strange paralysis left himsuddenly. 

 * * * * *

He knew it was useless to struggle; without resisting, he let themplace upon his head a cap-like device that seemed lost in a tangledmaze of machinery. Each meteor-man grasped one of the instrumentsresembling old-time radio head-phones that were fastened toParkinson's head-gear, and clamped it over his ears. 

The bacteriologist heard a steady, humming drone, like a swarm ofangry bees--felt a peculiar, soothing warmth about his head; and thenhe slept. 

Only a moment or two seemed to have passed when he awoke. The strangedevice on his head was removed and put away; and then, to Parkinson'samazement, one of the three men, evidently the leader, spoke--inEnglish!

"Now that you have recovered consciousness, " he remarked in a cold, expressionless voice, "you had better realize at the very beginningthat you are completely in our power. Any effort to escape will befutile, for there is only one way to reach the outside; the openingthrough the top; and only one means of travel through that opening:the sphere. And since you know nothing about the operation of themachine, any attempt to run it would be disastrous to you. 

"If you promise to refrain from violence, we'll release you, and giveyou some measure of freedom. We'll do this because you can be ofassistance to us in one of our tasks here on your planet. "

Parkinson assented readily; he knew he could gain nothing by rejectingtheir offer. "Of course I'll promise. But--but, how did you learnEnglish?" he asked in bewilderment. 

"You taught us, " the leader replied. "That device we placed upon yourhead created a duplicate of your knowledge in our minds. We knew yourlanguage, your world, indeed, yourself, as well as you do. "

Parkinson shook his head in amazement. Another question came to hismind as the men released him. He was interrupted before he could giveit expression. 

 * * * * *

"Don't ask, " the leader exclaimed. "I'll tell our entire story so thatyou'll have no occasion to annoy us with your questions. 

"We're Venerians, " he began, "inhabitants of the planet you callVenus. For ages our world has been overcrowded. A short time ago, theconditions became so acute that something had to be done. It wassuggested that we seek another habitable planet to which our peoplecould migrate. 

"Your Earth was thought to be the world with physical conditions mostclosely resembling those of Acor, or Venus. Our scientists set to workimmediately, using forces and devices with which you are totallyunfamiliar, and constructed several missiles which they hurled atEarth. These missiles, spherical masses closely resembling meteors, were set to explode after a certain period of contact with anatmosphere similar to our own. By their explosion we on Venus coulddetermine whether or not this world had a breathable atmosphere. 

"Upon our deciding that the Earth was habitable, we built this greatmachine. It is chiefly composed of our greatest heat-resister, ametal we call thoque; I see no corresponding word in your vocabulary;evidently you are unfamiliar with the element, or else it is unknownon Earth. 

"After our flight through space, automatically controlled, by the way, on Venus, we landed here. With our thoque disintegrator, we bored apassageway to the surface of this great sphere. Then we entered thecar, rose to the top of the passageway, and discovered you. 

"That is a brief synopsis of our actions--and it must suffice! Ask noquestions; we do not wish to be disturbed by the blind gropings ofyour primitive mind!"

There was a cold finality in the Venerian's voice that convincedParkinson that for the moment, at least, he had better forget the manyquestions that had surged up in his mind. 

The Venerian leader spoke again. "From our observations of your mind, we know that you have not had food or water for a rather lengthyperiod of time. It is not our purpose to starve you: you shall eat anddrink. "

A minute later Parkinson sat at a very high table in one of the rooms, drinking water from Venus, and eating the fare of an alien world. 

 * * * * *

Days passed by, merging into weeks, while Parkinson lost all track oftime. The bacteriologist's existence became a ceaseless round of toil. The Venerian had said that he would be given some measure of freedom, because he would be of use to them; he had not been with them long erehe learned what that use was. 

One of the rooms was filled with great slabs of thoque; it wasParkinson's task to carry the slabs to the vehicle at the base of theshaft, one by one; to rise to the surface with them, accompanied bytwo of the men--the third was working on the surface--and there unloadthem. Day after day this continued. 

Hope of escaping was almost dead in Parkinson's breast, because hewas constantly under the surveillance of those hard, blue eyes. Onlyone thing kept hope alive: by watching the Venerians operate the car, he was slowly gaining a knowledge of the meaning of the many buttonsin the wall. Some day, if an opportunity came, he meant to be ready totake advantage of it. 

Once, shortly after his monotonous toil began, Parkinson experienced agreat flare of hope for deliverance. They had just brought anotherslab to the surface, when a steamer appeared above the horizon. It wasfar away, but its crew must surely have seen the island. 

But his expectations were short-lived. One of the three drew frombeneath his tight-fitting, white garments a little, metal object, along tube, with a handle at one end, and pointed it at the vessel. Fora moment he held it thus, moving it slowly backward and forward: thenhe returned it to its place of concealment, and turned away with anair of indifference. And Parkinson saw the ship burst suddenly intoflame, a few minutes later to sink beneath the waves. 

 * * * * *

Shaken to the depths of his being, Parkinson resumed his work. Theinhumanity of these saturnine Venerians filled him with a dread sogreat that he refused to admit it to himself. That that had not beenthe first time that they had destroyed a ship, he felt sure; his heartsank, and grew more hopeless. 

At last his task of carrying slabs was finished. The room was empty, and the work completed. A great tower, entirely covering the island, reared its head into the sky. In appearance, it resembled a very talllighthouse. This resemblance held true only until its top was reached;there it ended. From the tower's top extended four long, hollow arms, so constructed that they whirled about the tower at a mad pace whenthe machinery with which they were connected was started. In addition, arrangement was made for a powerful blast of air to be sent throughthe tubes when the Venerians so desired. 

What the purpose of this great edifice was, Parkinson could not guess:later, he learned the horrible significance of it all. 

After the tower was finished, the bacteriologist was left to his owndevices to a great extent, though always closely watched by one of hiscaptors. They let him eat all the food he desired, and let him liearound as much as he wished, regaining his health and strength. Thiswas a pleasant surprise for him: he took full advantage of hisprivileges. 

Then, one day when Parkinson had fully recovered from the effects ofhis grueling labors, the leader of the Venerians approached him frombehind, and before he could raise a hand in defense, had rendered himhelplessly paralyzed. 

"You will now be given a second opportunity to help the cause of Venuson Earth, " he said in his expressionless voice. And so saying, helifted Parkinson, and bore him into one of the rooms. 

CHAPTER III

At no time while he was held captive by the Venerians was Parkinson ashopeless, or as completely filled with despair as when he was carriedinto this room. There was something depressing about the chamber, something that gripped his heart with the chill hand of dread. He hada feeling of impending evil. 

The few momentary glimpses of the chamber that he had gotten while hewas being carried, sufficed to convince Parkinson that this was alaboratory, or--he shuddered at the thought--an operating room. Thewalls, floor and ceiling were composed of a white porcelainlikesubstance: from these walls, strangely, streamed the same copperylight that filled the entire meteor. 

Entirely concealing one wall was a long, glass case, constructed toform countless little niches, each of which held a small, transparentvessel. At the back of the room was a high table, covered withtransparent cases which were filled with complex instruments of everydescription, some similar to those on Earth; others entirelydifferent. 

The thing that brought the thought of an operating room to Parkinson'smind was the long, white slab that rested on metal uprights in theroom's center--an operating table. A moment after they entered theroom, he had his theory substantiated: the Venerian leader placed himon the white slab, stretching him to full length. It was an operatingtable--and he was to be the subject of their operation!

He had lain there but a moment when two of the Venerians approached, one on either side, and began removing his clothing. It was nor longbefore he lay on the cold slab, entirely nude. 

 * * * * *

While he was being stripped, he heard the leader of the Veneriansmoving about, heard the click of glass, the rasp of metal upon metal. But, unable to move his eyes, he had seen none of his activities, except to note that several of the little vessels had been taken fromtheir resting places. 

When the two had finished disrobing him, and had replaced him upon hisback, the leader appeared. He looked down at Parkinson, a queerexpression in his hard, blue eyes. He seemed to hesitate a moment:then he spoke. 

"Earthling, " he said in his toneless voice, "I have decided to tellyou of our intentions. You are going to play a very important part inour scheme, and it is only fitting that you should know. You can donothing to hinder our plans: you are giving us incalculable aid: andit affords me some degree of satisfaction to tell you this. 

"As you know, Earthling, we purpose to have the people of Acor to cometo Earth to live, to relieve the congested conditions of our ownworld. Obviously, there is no room for two types of intelligentbeings on one planet--your race must go! It is our intention todestroy all human life on Earth!

"We intend accomplishing this with Venerian microbes. From the recordof your knowledge, I've learned that diseases of various kinds arecommon on Earth. We expected that such would be the case, and thus, you would not be immune to germs, so we came prepared. Each of thesmall compartments in that case that you may have seen, contains aculture of a different germ. After we have determined which Venerianbacilli will be the most effective, we will develop them in greatquantities, and loose them upon your world. 

"In the selecting process, you will play your part. Since our germsmay have a different effect upon your bodies than they do uponVenerians, we will inoculate you with different diseases, and watchtheir effects upon you. 

"Of course, you yourself will be in no great danger, for we will havethe diseases under our constant control. On Acor we have abolisheddisease entirely, having a reagent or an antitoxin for every malady;we will use our cures upon you immediately after we have seen how youreact to each disease. 

"What we desire is a bacillus that will take effect when it isbreathed in through the lungs. If the disease is of such a nature asto instill fear in the minds of observers, so much the better; butthat is unnecessary. When we discover a microbe of that nature, wewill be ready to act. 

"By the way, our work has been lessened to a great degree by the factthat you are a bacteriologist. The knowledge we gain from you hasenabled us to eliminate at least half of our microbes. All Veneriangerms that are duplicated on Earth will be left out of ourcalculations. Only those unknown to your planet will be tried uponyou. "

 * * * * *

When the Venerian had finished his explanation, each word of which hadsounded like a death knell to Parkinson, the bacteriologist lay onthe slab in the grip of a nightmare of horror. The cold-bloodedbrutality of these Venerian beasts, and the thought of lying therehelpless with his body the prey of unknown diseases, filled him with amaddening fear and dread. 

Mightily he struggled to break the uncanny bonds that held himparalyzed, but it was of no avail. His body retained its helplessrigidity. 

Only for a moment was Parkinson left to his fearful musings; then theVenerians begin their work. A tall table on wheels was brought fromsomewhere, and drawn to the side of the slab. Upon this variousinstruments were placed, side by side with numerous flat vesselscontaining germ cultures. Parkinson saw none of this, but from thesounds that came to his ears he could infer what was taking place. 

Finally, everything seemed to be in readiness. The Venerian leaderbent over Parkinson for a moment: and the latter felt a sharp pain inhis side. Then the Venerian withdrew. 

Slowly, interminably, the time dragged by while the microbes that hadbeen introduced into his body were at their work. How long he laythere with the Venerians watching, he could not tell, but it seemed tobe hours. During that time he felt himself gripped by an increasinglyviolent fever. Unbearable heat flooded his body. And because of hishelplessness, he could do nothing to relieve his pain and discomfort. It was maddening!

When he thought he had reached the limit of his endurance, and feltthat he would go insane in another moment, the Venerian leaderinjected something into his side. He became aware of an immediatesense of relief; in an unbelievably short time the fever had left himand he was himself again. 

There followed for Parkinson hours of nightmare agony, while theVenerians experimented with his living body. Time after time he wasinoculated with strange bacilli that wracked him with torturesindescribable. Hideous diseases covered him with festering sores;twisted his flesh into a repellent mass of scars; left him weakenedand deformed. Had it not been for the incredible curative powers ofthe Venerians, he would have died then; but always, when the endseemed at hand, they brought him back to life, only to subject him toother horrors. 

 * * * * *

After what seemed countless ages, the Venerians left him alone. Underthe powerful effects of their cures, Parkinson began to recover. Hopewelled up in his heart; perhaps the terrible experiments were ended. 

When he was almost certain that the torture was over, his hopes weresuddenly destroyed. The three Venerians approached again, each bearinga number of vessels containing germ cultures. These they placed on thetable at Parkinson's side; then two of them withdrew, leaving theleader to continue his work. Uttering a few words in the Veneriantongue, he occupied himself with something on the table, and a momentlater turned toward the bacteriologist, a long needle in his hands. 

Parkinson felt a great burning pain in his left arm, as though asearing, hot needle had been thrust into his flesh. In a moment thisvanished. Then a feeling of irresistible lassitude overwhelmed him; anunbearable weariness filled him with longing for rest, peace--death. This, too, was of short duration. 

With the passing of the weariness, Parkinson became aware of a sharpthrobbing in his arm. Rapidly this increased in violence, untilsuddenly an unbearable, excruciating agony seized him. Far greater wasthis than any pain he had suffered before. For a moment he struggledto scream, to move, to do anything to relieve his agony. There seemedto be a sudden snap--a cry of anguish burst from his lips--and hissenses left him. Just as the bonds of paralysis had broken, he hadlost consciousness. 

Life returned to Parkinson very slowly. In a daze he stared around, uncomprehending. Then suddenly he realized that he was no longerparalyzed: nor was he in the operating room. The bed on which he laywas soft, comfortable; the room, unfamiliar. But not for long did hismind dwell upon this; in a few moments his eyelids closed, and heslept the sleep of complete mental and physical exhaustion. 

Daring the weeks that followed, Parkinson did little other than sleep. Occasionally he arose, either to stretch himself, or to secure food, but for the greater part of the time he remained in bed. His body wasa mere shadow of its former self as the result of his terribleexperience on the white slab: his incessant sleeping, necessarybecause of his weakened condition, served to bring him back to hisformer health. The Venerians seemed glad to have it thus: asleep, hedid not disturb their activities. 

 * * * * *

When he had awakened from his first period of natural slumber, he hadreceived a terrible shock. His left arm was gone, amputated at theshoulder. Strangely, the wound had healed while he slept, probably theresult of the Venerian doctoring, so there was no pain: but the shockhad been terrible. 

After he had recovered from the effects of that shock, he had resolvedto make the Venerians pay for what they had done. And then he hadrealized that the inhuman brutes must be destroyed for a greaterreason: unless he interfered, he believed that they would carry outtheir intention of destroying all human life. 

As the weeks passed by, while strength was returning to Parkinson, helearned in a general way what the invaders were doing. They wereengaged in developing vast quantities of microbes to be spread overEarth. When these were ready, a great amount of fine dust that theVenerians had brought with them, was impregnated with the bacilli. This was then taken up into the tower, where, as Parkinson learnedlater, it was blown out through the four tubes that spun around thetower's top, to drift through the air--to enter human bodies--todestroy life. 

The Venerians worked with the cultures and impregnated dust withoutprotection of any sort: evidently they were immune to the disease. Later Parkinson learned that he was likewise immune; they had renderedhim to after trying the germs upon him. 

Gradually the bacteriologist's health returned--so gradually that hiscaptors seemed not to notice it. He was glad of this, for theirvigilance had relaxed, and he did not want it renewed. Even when hewas as strong and well as ever, he spent much time in bed, shammingillness. And when he could do so without danger of detection, he kepta close watch upon the three, waiting for a time when he would beentirely alone. 

 * * * * *

At last his opportunity came. The three Venerians rose to the surfacetogether, leaving him in his room, to all outward appearances, asleep. But sleep was far from him at that moment; he had been watching. 

Shortly after the sphere had vanished up the shaft, Parkinson emergedfrom his room. For a moment he surveyed the circle of doors: then heshrugged his shoulders. They all looked alike to him. Quickly hecrossed the room, and pressed a button that mechanically opened adoor. It was his purpose, first of all, to secure a weapon; one roomwould do as well as another for a beginning. 

At first glance Parkinson was struck by the strange familiarity ofthis chamber: then, after a moment, he recognized it. A tall, high-backed metal chair in its center was its mark of identification. This was the chamber wherein the Venerians had transferred a record ofhis knowledge to their minds. 

Carefully he looked around in search of a weapon, but the room heldnothing but the chair and the thought transference device. In a momenthe withdrew, closing the door behind him. 

In the next room he entered, he was fortunate. This chamber was filledwith strange devices of various kinds. While curiously inspecting theintricate machines, he saw something that brought a smile ofsatisfaction to his lips. 

Against one wall stood a tall, glass case, one of the shelves of whichheld several metal devices that Parkinson immediately recognized asbeing the Venerians' weapons. Poignantly he remembered how a similardevice had destroyed a ship. 

Leaving the door slightly ajar, he crossed to the case and secured oneof the weapons. For a moment he studied it. There was nothing complexabout the mechanism; a cursory examination sufficed to reveal how itwas operated. Pressure on a little knob at the back of the handlereleased the devastating ray. 

He was about to slip the device into his pocket when he stiffenedinvoluntarily. There was a sound of movement outside the room--heheard a step on the metal floor--then he whirled. 

 * * * * *

One of the Venerians stood in the doorway, a menacing frown on hisface. He was crouching, ready to spring upon Parkinson. 

Quick as thought, the bacteriologist leveled his newly-acquiredweapon, and pressed on the knob. There was a sudden spurt of flamefrom the Venerian's body; then it crumpled, sagging, shrinkingtogether. 

Hastily Parkinson released the pressure on the little knob, aghast atthe destructive power of his little weapon. Then, as he remembered thetorture he had endured at their hands, he directed the ray upon theashes, until they, too, were consumed, leaving naught but a dark patchon the floor. 

For several minutes Parkinson stood there in deep thought. There wasno immediate danger from the two remaining Venerians, for they wereup in the tower, while the sphere was in the meteor; so he could thinkwith utmost safety. Deep thought and careful planning were necessarynow, for he had taken the step that must mean either his death or thedeath of the Venerians. 

Suddenly he leaped into action; he had decided upon his next move. Crossing to the case he secured another weapon. He wasn't sure thatthey could be effectively discharged without re-loading; handicappedas he was with one arm gone, he had to be certain of the reliabilityof his means of defense. Then he left the room, and crossed to thehuge thoque sphere. 

It was the work of a moment to enter this, and prepare to ascend. Thisdone, he turned his attention to the numerous knobs on the wall. Hehad not seen them for quite a while; it was with difficulty that herecalled which knobs controlled the car's ascent. At last, hesitantly, but correctly, he pressed on the knobs, and the sphere rose slowlytoward the surface. 

At the proper moment, Parkinson, brought the vehicle to a halt, andslid back the door. Furtively he peered around. The Venerians were onthe other side of the tower. Quickly he lowered the ladder anddescended. 

 * * * * *

As he stepped to the floor, a sudden cry of dismay fell upon his ears. One of the Venerians, coming around the car, had discovered him. Without a moment's hesitation, Parkinson aimed his little weapon, andpressed upon the knob. Like his fellow, the Venerian fell to thefloor, a heap of charred ashes. 

With the second Venerian destroyed, Parkinson dashed around thesphere, metal cylinder held in readiness. The leader of the Venerianswas stealing stealthily around the other side of the car, his handfumbling beneath his garment. 

"Stop!" Parkinson cried. "Raise your hands above your head--empty!" Acylinder clattered to the metal floor as the Venerian's hands movedskyward. 

"Keep your back turned!" Parkinson snapped as the invader began about. "I won't hesitate to press on this little knob, at your first hostilemove! I'd thoroughly enjoy burning you to a crisp, so be verycareful. "

While talking, Parkinson had moved slowly toward the man from Venus;now, almost upon him, he quickly dropped his weapon into a pocket, andswung a terrible blow at the base of his skull. The Venerian fell tothe floor without a groan, unconscious. 

Parkinson stared at the recumbent figure rather dubiously for amoment. If only he had his other arm! But it was gone; with animpatient shake of his head he stooped and raised the senselessinvader. 

It was anything but an easy task for the bacteriologist to carry hisseven-foot burden up the ladder and into the sphere, but finally, hesucceeded in doing so. Then, without delay, he lowered the car intothe meteor again. 

As he bore the Venerian from the vehicle, he tried to decide upon hisnext move. Obviously, he had to secure the one surviving invader, sothat he would not be a menace to Parkinson when he revived. And thenthe logical thing to do would be, in some way, to secure informationfrom him as to how to cure the disease that was spreading over theworld. 

 * * * * *

The logical thing to do, yes--but how? With only one arm, the simpletask of binding the Venerian presented considerable difficulty. Howmuch more difficult would it be to force anything from him?

Then the solution of the first problem presented itself to Parkinson. What was to prevent his strapping this being into the high-backedchair to which he had been secured some time before? Quickly hecrossed the circular room to the door he had first passed throughwhile searching for a weapon. 

Ten minutes later, when the Venerian regained his senses, he wasfastened securely to the tall, metal chair. 

"Well, " Parkinson addressed him, "conditions seem to be reversed now, and you're the underdog. I've nipped your invasion in the bud. Allyour elaborate preparations are wasted. "

Something resembling a sneer wreathed the Venerian's thin lips; amocking gleam lit his cold, blue eyes. 

"So our efforts have been wasted, have they? I'm afraid I can't agreewith you. Already, enough bacteria have been released to destroy alllife, though it will take longer than we desire. Even though you killme, our goal will still be reached. The human race will die!"

A cloud of gloom fell upon Parkinson. He had expected this; but he hadbeen hoping that he was wrong. 

"Then there's only one thing for me to do, and that is: I'll have toforce you to tell me how to undo the damage you've done. "

The Venerian smiled mirthlessly. "You have absolutely no chance ofaccomplishing that, " he said. "We've done our work too well to allowany interference now. 

"You do not know this, but we have released upon your world the worstmalady ever known to Venus. There is only one remedy; and I'm the onlyone who knows it, or who has the means wherewith to accomplish it. AndI certainly won't tell!"

The worried expression on Parkinson's face increased in intensity. There was something in the Venerian's voice that convinced him that hemeant what he said. 

Then suddenly his countenance cleared, and a happy smile replaced hisfrown. 

"Perhaps you won't tell, but I think you will. There are more waysthan one of forcing you. "

 * * * * *

Parkinson had hit upon a solution to his problem. The Venerians hadreproduced his knowledge in their brains; why wouldn't it be possiblefor him to reverse the operation?

In a moment he secured the thought-transference apparatus from a casein the rear of the room, and bore it to the chair, and in spite of theVenerian leader's struggles, placed it upon his head. He put thehead-phones over his own ears, and began fumbling with the controls. 

Suddenly he seemed to strike the right combination. There was a faint, humming drone in his ears; after a moment this was replaced by a loudcrackling--and the knowledge of the man from Venus was becoming hisown. 

Somewhat dazed, Parkinson shut off the current. His mind was in aturmoil. He was in possession of knowledge of such an amazingcharacter that, for the moment he had lost his mental equilibrium. Indeed, so strange was his new-found knowledge, that he could notgrasp the significance of even half of the facts in his mind. 

But already, he knew how, with animal electricity, they had paralyzedhim; knew what had happened to him on the operating table; knew thenature of the dread disease that destroyed his arm; the GrayPlague--and knew the cure!

A sudden thought arrested this review of his new knowledge. The GrayPlague! At that very moment incalculable quantities of the deadlybacilli were being cast into the air. And he was doing nothing aboutit!

He glanced at the Venerian. He was still unconscious, and would remainso for some minutes to come. And even if he did recover his senses, hewas securely fastened to the chair; Parkinson dashed out of the room, crossed to the sphere, and passed through the open doorway. 

Without hesitation he manipulated the controls, directed by hisVenerian knowledge. Rapidly the sphere rose to the surface. 

As it came to rest on the floor of the tower, Parkinson sprang fromthe car, and headed toward a mass of intricate machinery that filledfully a quarter of the great building. 

Even this caused him no great concern; he was as familiar with it ashe would have been had he constructed it. For some moments he was busywith numerous dials and levers; then the release of the germs wasstopped. 

 * * * * *

Parkinson spent several minutes in examining the contents of thetower, his Earthly mind lost in wonder at the strange things hisVenerian knowledge revealed to him. Then he entered the sphere again, and sank into the meteor. 

As he moved toward the room that held the Venerian, his mind was busywith conjectures as to what he would do with his prisoner. It wasnecessary for the bacteriologist to reach the mainland as quickly aspossible, and make use of his knowledge of the cure for the GrayPlague. He didn't want to kill the man; he couldn't free him; yet ifhe left him strapped to the chair, he'd surely die of starvation. 

Still undecided, he thrust open the door. With a startled gasp hestopped short. Somehow the Venerian had freed himself; at that momenthe leaped toward Parkinson. 

Instinctively the bacteriologist flung up his hand in a defensiveattitude. The onrushing Venerian caught Parkinson's out-thrust fist inthe pit of his stomach, and doubled up in pain. While he was thusdefenseless, Parkinson placed a well-directed blow on the side of theVenerian's jaw, a blow carrying every ounce of his strength. 

So great was the force of the punch, that it lifted the man from Venusand cast him headlong upon the floor. His head landed with a sickeningthud. Unmoving, he lay where he had fallen. 

Parkinson knelt over him for a moment, then arose. Without question, the man was dead. The Venerian had solved the bacteriologist's lastproblem; he was free to return to the United States with his means ofsaving mankind. 

 * * * * *

Drawing the little metal cylinder from his pocket, he burned the bodyof the Venerian leader to a heap of ashes, ridding the world of thelast invader. Then he turned and entered the glass-lined operatingroom. 

Following the dictates of his Venerian knowledge, he crossed to one ofthe walls, and drew therefrom a flat, glass vessel, somewhat like apetri dish. This contained bacteria that were harmless in themselves, and were hostile to those of the Gray Plague. These germs, broughtfrom Venus, were the only cure for the terrible disease. [1]

[Footnote 1: The work of the English bacteriologist Twort, in 1915, and the Frenchman, d'Herelle, in 1917, brought to the attention of thescientific world the fact that many bacteria are subject to attack anddestruction by some unknown active agent with which they areassociated in infected material. This agent, whatever its character, changed growing germ cultures to a dead, glassy substance. 

Twort advanced the thought that the agent might be a living, filteredvirus, although he favored the theory that it was an enzyme derivedfrom the bacteria themselves. 

D'Herelle, on the contrary, believed that this phenomenon was due to aliving, multiplying, ultra-microscopic microbe that destroyed certainbacteria. 

Evidence favoring both theories has come to light, with the resultthat, at present, controversy is rife. Up to date, the contention ofneither side has been proved. ]

Parkinson's adventure was almost at an end. He had not emergedunscathed, but he had won!

The details of his further actions need not be recorded. Suffice it tosay that he entered the sphere, carrying his precious, curative germs, arose to the top of the tower, and passed through a round opening inits side. His borrowed knowledge revealed that the car possessedabilities that he had not suspected; with amazing speed he caused itto flash across the Atlantic Ocean to the United States. 

There he saw the frightful carnage that the Plague had caused, saw thedeserted cities--and was filled with self-reproach because he had notacted sooner. 

Across the miles and miles of deserted country he sped, following thefleeing hordes, finally passing over the stragglers and landing inthe heart of the congested areas. After making a few inquiries, hereturned to the sphere, and continued on toward the West. He landed, finally, outside the city of San Francisco. 

A short time later, twisted, deformed, yet triumphant, he was usheredinto the presence of the United States government as--the man who hadsaved the human race. 

CHAPTER IV

The terrible days of the Gray Plague ended in mystery. Much that hadpuzzled the world, Parkinson, with his Venerian knowledge, explained;but there was one thing, the final, enigmatical act in the strangedrama, that was as much of a mystery to him as it was to the rest ofthe world. 

Enigma! Of what significance, of what portent--who could tell?

When the great vessel from the United States, equipped to destroy themeteor of the Venetians, neared the great thoque sphere, they cameupon a scene quite different from what they had expected. Parkinson, who was on the ship, was more surprised than the rest, for he haddefinite knowledge of what, in the natural course of events, theyshould see. For the others there was nothing so very strange in whatthey saw; Parkinson had lied, that was all. 

When the bacteriologist had left the meteor, there had been a high, bronze-colored tower, a burnished lighthouse, covering its entire top. It had been there--but now it was gone! Only the jagged, archedsurface of the meteor remained. 

They lowered boats and rowed to the strange island. There they sawsomething that filled them--Parkinson especially--with a very definiteuneasiness. The entire top of the meteor was a twisted, fire-blastedmass of bronze-like metal. Where the tower had been, where the shafthad led into the remarkable interplanetary vehicle, there was now abroken expanse of thoque that flashed fire under the rays of the sun. 

Something seemed to have melted, to have fused the tower, until it hadcrumpled, and had run, filling the entrance of the meteor. There wasirrefutable evidence to that effect; no one thought otherwise. 

But what agency had done this strange thing?

Someone suggested that it might have been the work of some prearrangedmechanism. Parkinson shook his head. Had such been the case, hisVenerian knowledge would have told him so. 

Obviously, nothing of Earth had done it, nothing of Earth--thensomething of Venus! Inconclusive conjecture, perhaps, but no otherexplanation offered itself. Something had sealed the contents of themeteor from the sight of man, something with a purpose. From Venus?The thought was logical, to say the least. 

Not for long did they remain there beside the Venerian vehicle; therewas naught for them to do, so they turned about and headed toward theUnited States. They bore tidings that were vaguely disturbing, tidingsthat none were glad to hear. For, according to all indications, something alien to Earth was still within her confines. 

 * * * * *

Behind it all--the meteors, the Plague, the sealing of the Venerianvehicle--is one fact of great significance. No longer is man alone inthe universe; no longer is he in isolation! Out of space came amenace, an intelligence striving to wrest from him his right to ruleover Earth. No longer can man in his smug complacency think of himselfas being secure in his strength. He has been shown the utter folly ofsuch thinking. 

The menace--the invaders from Venus--came, and were destroyed, theirpurposes defeated. Yet--in the vast reaches of space, in worlds ofother dimensions, in the cosmic crucible of life that embodies allcreation, there may be other forms of life, other menaces, hoveringclouds of death, preparing to sweep down upon Earth to snuff out herlife. Who can tell?

And who may say that man is free from the Venerian danger? The strangesealing of the meteor implies that the menace is still present. Whoknows but what those inhuman Venerian brutes may even now be planningsome new invasion, may be preparing to renew their attack upon Earth?

Time alone will tell. 

ROBOT PILOTS FOR AIRCRAFT

Perfection of an automatic mechanical piloting mechanism for airplaneshas been achieved after several years of experiment at the royalaircraft establishment of Farnborough. 

The apparatus has been successfully tried out on various types ofplanes--two-seater day bombers, large twin-engine night bombers andbig flying boats. Its use as a second or relief pilot on long distanceflights by Royal Air Force machines is now being considered. 

In every test the robot pilot has steered an accurate course for hoursat a time and over distances up to 400 miles while human members ofthe crew have been concerned with other duties. 

The basis of the mechanical pilot is a gyroscope that controls pistonsconnected with the rudder and elevators of the plane. These pistonsare actuated by compressed air. 

Once a course is set the robot pilot keeps the machine on that routeand errors of even a fraction of a degree are instantly andautomatically detected and corrected. All the human pilot has to do ina plane so equipped is to take off and land the machine. 

The Pilot's Assister is the official name of the new English device. It weighs about 120 pounds. 

Flights have been made with the mechanical pilot in all sorts ofweather. In dense fog and clouds, when a human pilot would have foundit almost impossible to maintain straight or level flight because ofthe absence of any visible horizon by which to steer, the mechanicalpilot flew the plane with absolute accuracy. On one test flight theautomatic pilot steered a dead true course from Farnborough in SouthEngland, to Newcastle, 270 miles farther north. The human pilot didnot touch the controls until it was necessary to land the plane at thedestination. 

Jetta of the Lowlands

Conclusion

_By Ray Cummings_

[Sidenote: Black-garbed figures move in ghastly greenness as theinvisible flyer speeds on its business of ransom. ]

[Illustration: _Hans and I hauled out the heavy casket. _]

CHAPTER XV

_In the Bandit Camp_

The dark cave, with its small spots of tube-light mounted upon movabletripods, was eery with grotesque swaying shadows. The bandit camp. Hidden down here in the depths of the Mid-Atlantic Lowlands. Aninaccessible retreat, this cave in what once was the ocean floor. Onlya few years ago water had been here, water black and cold andsoundless. Tremendous pressure, with three thousand or more fathoms ofthe ocean above it. Fishes had roamed these passages, no doubt. Strange monsters of the deeps: sightless, or with eyes likephosphorescent torches. 

But the water was gone now. Blue ooze was caked upon the cave floor. Eroded walls; niches and tiny gullies; crevices and an arching domehigh overhead. A fantastic cave--no one, seeing it as I saw it thatmorning at dawn, could have believed it was upon this earth. Fromwhere De Boer had put me--on the flat top of a small, butte-like domenear the upper end of the sloping cave floor--all the area of thisstrange bandit camp was visible to me. 

A little tent of parchment was set upon the dome-top. 

"Yours, " said De Boer, with a grin. "Make yourself comfortable. Gutierrez will be your willing servant, until we see about thisransom. It will have to be one very large, for you are a damn troubleto me, Grant. And a risk. Food will come shortly. Then you can sleep:I think you will want it. "

He leaped from the little butte, leaving the taciturn ever-watchfulGutierrez sitting cross-legged on the ledge near me, with hisprojector across his knees. 

 * * * * *

The cave was irregularly circular, with perhaps, a hundred-feetdiameter and a ceiling fifty feet high. A drift of the fetid, Lowlandair went through it--into a rift at this upper end, and out throughthe lower passage entrance which sloped downward thirty feet anddebouched upon a rippled ramp of ooze outside. It was daylight outthere now. From my perch I could see the sullen heavy walls of aridge. Mist hung against them, but the early morning sunlight camedown in shafts penetrating the mist and striking the oily surface of aspread of water left here in the depths of a cauldron. 

De Boer's flyer was outside. We had landed by the shore of the sea, and the bandits had pushed the vehicle into an arching recess whichseemed as though made to hide it. All this camp was hidden. Archingcrags of the ridge-wall jutted out over the cave entrance. From above, any passing flyer--even though well below the zero-height--would seenothing but this black breathing sea, lapping against its eroded, fantastic shore-line. 

Within the cave, there was only a vague filtering daylight from thelower entrance, a thin shaft from the rift overhead, and the bluetube-light, throwing great shadows of the tents and the men againstthe black rock walls. 

There seemed perhaps a hundred of the bandits here. A semi-permanentcamp, by its aspect. Grey parchment tents were set up about the floor, some small, others more elaborate. It seemed as though it were ahuddled little group of buildings in the open air, instead of in acave. One tent, just at the foot of my dome, seemed De Boer's personalroom. He went into it after leaving me, and came out to join the maingroup of his fellows near the center of the cave where a largeelectron stove, and piped water from a nearby subterranean freshet, and a long table set with glassware and silver, stood these men forkitchen and eating place. 

 * * * * *

The treasure had not yet been brought in from the flyer. But, fromwhat I overheard, it seemed that the radiumized ingots of theill-fated Spawn and Perona were to be stored for a year at least, herein this cave. I could see the strong-room cubby. It was hewn from therock of the cave wall, its sealed-grid door-oval set with metal bars. 

I saw also what seemed a small but well-equipped machine shop, in arecess room at one side of the cave. Men were working in there underthe light of tubes. And there was a niche hollowed out in the wall tomake a room for De Boer's instruments--ether-wave receivers andtransmitters, the aerial receiving wires of which stretched in banksalong the low ceiling. 

There was no activity in there now, except for one man who wasoperating what I imagined might be an aerial insulator, guarding theplace from any prying search-vibrations. 

The main cave was a bustle of activity. The arriving bandits weregreeting their fellows and exchanging news. The men who had been lefthere were jubilant at the success of the Chief's latest enterprise. Bottles were unsealed and they began to prepare the morning meal. 

My presence caused considerable comment. I was a complication at whichmost of the men were ill pleased, especially when the arriving banditstold who I was, and that the patrols of the United States weredoubtless even now trying to find me. 

But De Boer silenced the grumbling with rough words. 

"My business, not yours. But you will take your share of his ransom, won't you? Have done!"

And Jetta, she had caused comment also. But when the bottles were welldistributed the grumbling turned to ribald banter which made meshudder that it should fall upon Jetta's ears. De Boer had kept hismen away from her, shoving them aside when they crowded to see her. She was in a little tent now, not far from the base of my ledge. 

My meal presently was brought from where most of the bandits now wereroistering at the long table in the center of the cave. 

"Eat, " said Gutierrez. "I eat with you, Americano. _Madre Mia_, whenyou are ransomed away from here it will please me! De Boer is fool, with taking such a chance. "

 * * * * *

With the meal ended, another guard came to take Gutierrez' place and Iwas ordered into my tent. The routine of the camp, it seemed, was touse the daylight hours for the time of sleep. There were lookouts andguards at the entrance, and a little arsenal of ready weapons stockedin the passage. The men at the table were still at their meal. Itwould end, I did not doubt, by most of them falling into heavyalcoholic slumber. 

I was tired, poisoned by the need of sleep. I lay on fabric cushionspiled in one corner of my tent. But sleep would not come; my thoughtsran like a tumbling mountain torrent, and as aimlessly. I hoped thatJetta was sleeping. De Boer was now at the center table with his men. Hans was guarding Jetta. He was a phlegmatic, heavy Dutchman, andseemed decent enough. 

I wondered what Hanley might be doing to rescue me. But as I thoughtabout it, I could only hope that his patrols would not find us outhere. An attack and most certainly De Boer and his men in their angerwould kill me out of hand. And possibly Jetta also. 

I had not had a word alone with Jetta since that scene in the controlroom. When we disembarked, she had stayed close by De Boer. But I knewthat Jetta had fathomed my purpose, that she was working to the sameend. We must find a way of arranging the ransom which would give us anopportunity to escape. 

I pondered it. And at last an idea came to me, vague in all itsdetails, as yet. But it seemed feasible, and I thought it would soundplausible to De Boer. I would watch my chance and explain it to him. Then I realized how much aid Jetta would be. She would agree with myplan, and help me convince him. And when the crucial time came, thoughI would be a captive, watched by Gutierrez, bound and gagged, perhaps--Jetta would be at liberty. De Boer and Gutierrez would not beon their guard with her. 

I drifted off to sleep, working out the details of my plan. 

CHAPTER XVI

_Planning The Ransom_

I was awakened by the sound of low voices outside my tent. Jetta'svoice, and De Boer's, and, mingled with them, the babble of the stillhilarious bandits in the center of the cave. But there were only a fewleft now; most of them had fallen into heavy slumber. I had beenasleep for several hours. I figured. The daylight shadows outside thecave entrance showed that it was at least noon. 

I lay listening to the voices which had awakened me. De Boer wassaying:

"But why, Jetta, should I bother with your ideas? I know what is best. This ransom is too dangerous to arrange. " His voice sounded calmlygood humored; I could hear in it now more than a trace of alcoholicinfluence. He added, "I think we had better kill him and have done. Mymen think so, too; already I have caused trouble with them, bybringing him. "

It jolted me into full wakefulness. 

Jetta's voice: "No! I tell you it can be arranged, Hendrick. I havebeen thinking of it, planning it--"

"Child! Well what? The least I can do is listen; I am no pig-headedAmerican. Say it out. What would you do to ransom him safely?"

 * * * * *

They were just at the foot of my ledge, in front of De Boer's tent. Their voices rose so that I could hear them plainly. For all my startat being awakened to hear my death determined upon, I recall that Iwas almost equally startled by Jetta's voice. Her tone, her mannerwith De Boer. Whatever opportunities they had had for talkingtogether, the change in their relationship was remarkable. De Boer wasnow flushed with drink, but for all that he had obviously still a firmgrip upon his wits. And I heard Jetta now urging her ideas upon himwith calm confidence. An outward confidence; yet under it there was avibrant emotion suppressed within her even tone; a hint of tremulousfright; a careful calculation of the effect she might be making uponDe Boer. Had he not been intoxicated--with drink and with her--hemight have sensed it. But he did not. 

"Hendrick, it can be done. A big price. Why not?"

"Because if we are trapped and caught, of what use is the price wemight have gotten? Tell me that, wise one?"

"We will not be trapped. And suppose you kill him--won't they trackyou just the same, Hendrick?"

"No. We would leave his body on some crag where it would be found. Thepatrols would more quickly tire of chasing a killer when the damage isdone. They want Grant alive. "

"Then let them have him alive--for a big price. Hendrick, listen--"

"Well, what?" he demanded again. "What is your plan?"

"Why--well, Hendrick, like this--"

She stammered, and I realized that she had no plausible plan. She wasfumbling, groping, urging upon De Boer that I must be ransomed alive. But she had not good reason for it. 

"Well?" he prompted impatiently. 

"You--can you raise Great New York on the audiphone, Hendrick?"

"Yes, " he said. 

"Hanley's office?"

"Yes, no doubt. Chah--that would give him a start, wouldn't it? DeBoer calmly calling him!"

 * * * * *

He was laughing. I heard what sounded as though he were gulpinganother drink. "By damn, Jetta, you are not the timid bird you look. Call Hanley, eh?"

"Yes. Can it be done and still bar his instruments from locating us?"

"Yes, and bar his television. Believe it, Jetta. I have every devicefor hiding. But--call Hanley!"

"Why not? . .. Hendrick, stop!"

I started. It seemed that he was embracing her; forcing half drunkencaresses upon her. 

I scrambled through my tent doorway, but Gutierrez, who had come backon guard, at once seized me. 

"_Hui_--so haste! Back, you. "

The Spaniard spoke softly, and he was grinning. "The chief plays withwoman's words, no? Charming señorita, though she dresses like a boy. But that is the more charming, eh? Listen to her, Grant. "

He gripped me, and prodded my side with the point of his knife blade. "Lie down Americano: we will listen. "

Jetta was insisting. "Hendrick, stop!"

"Why?"

 * * * * *

I could see them now. They were seated before the opening of De Boer'stent. A little stove in front of them. Coffee for Jetta, who wasseated cross-legged, pouring it; a bowl of drink for De Boer. And somebaked breadstuff dainties on a platter. 

"Hendrick--"

She pushed him away as he leaned to embrace her. Although she waslaughing with him, I could only guess at the chill of fear that mightbe in her heart. 

"Foolish, Hendrick!"

"Foolish little bird, Jetta mine. "

"You--it is you who are foolish, Hendrick. " She slid from his embraceand held her brimming coffee cup balanced before her, to ward him off. "You think I am really clever, so trust me, Hendrick. Oh there is agreat future for us: you say I inspire you; let me! Hendrick De Boer, Chieftain of the Lowlands! My father would have helped you becomethat. You can build a little empire. Hendrick--why not? Father wantedto make you President of Nareda. Why not build your own LowlandEmpire? We have a hundred men now? Why not gather a thousand? Tenthousand? An empire!"

"_Ave Maria_, " from Gutierrez. "This _niña_ thinks big thoughts!"

De Boer raised his bowl. "An empire--De Boer of the Lowlands! Go on;you amuse me. We have a nice start, with this treasure. "

"Yes. And the ransom money. But you will take me first to Cape Town, Hendrick? We can be married there: I am seventeen in a month. "

"Of course, Jetta. Haven't I promised?" There was no convincingness tome in the way he said it. "Of course. To Cape Town for our marriage. "

"Stop! Hendrick, be serious!" He had reached for her again. "Don't bea fool, Hendrick. "

"Very well, " he said. "I am all serious. What is your plan?"

 * * * * *

She was more resourceful this time. She retorted, "This craven Grant, he fears for his life--but he is very smart, Hendrick. I think he isscheming every moment how he can be safely ransomed. "

"Hah! No doubt of that!"

"And he has had experience with Chief Hanley. He knows Hanley'smethods, how Hanley will act. Let us see what Grant says of this. "

She had no plan of her own, but she hoped that by now I had one! Andshe was making an opportunity for me to put it before De Boer. 

He said, "There is sense to that, Jetta. If there is any way to foolHanley, that craven American has no doubt thought it out. "

She held another drink before him. "Yes. Let us see what he says. "

He drank; and again as they were near together he caressed her. 

"What a schemer you are, little bird. You and I are well matched, eh?"

"Gutierrez may be watching us!" she warned. 

They suddenly looked up and saw Gutierrez and me. 

"Hah!" Fortunately it struck De Boer into further good humor. "Hah--wehave an audience! Bring down the prisoner, Gutierrez! Let us see ifhis wits can get him out of this plight. Come down, Grant!"

Gutierrez shoved me down the ladder ahead of him. De Boer stood up andseized me. His great fingers dug into my shoulders. 

"Sit down, American! It seems you are not to die. _Perhaps_ not. "

The strength of his fingers was hurting me: he hoped I would wince. Mine was now an ignominious role, indeed, yet I knew it was best. 

I gasped. "Don't do that: you hurt!"

He chuckled and cast me loose. I added, with a show of spirit, "Youare a bullying giant. Just because you are bigger than I am--"

"Hear that, Jetta? The American finds courage with his coming ransom!"

 * * * * *

He shoved me to the ground. Gutierrez grinned, and withdrew a trifle. Jetta avoided meeting my gaze. 

"Have some coffee, " De Boer offered. "Alcohol is not good for you. Nowsay: have you any suggestions on how I can safely ransom you?"

It seemed that Jetta was holding her breath with anxiety. But Ianswered with an appearance of ready eagerness. "Yes. I have. I canarrange it with complete safety to you, if you give me a chance. "

"You've got your chance. Speak out. "

"You promise you will return me alive? Not hurt me?"

"De duvel--yes! You have my promise. But your plan had better be verygood. "

"It is. "

I told it carefully. The details of it grew with my words. Jettajoined in it. But, most of all, it did indeed sound feasible. "But itmust be done at once, " I urged. "The weather is right; to-night itwill be dark; overcast; not much wind. Don't you think so?"

He sent Gutierrez to the cave's instrument room to read the weatherforecast instruments. My guess was right. 

"To-night then, " I said. "If we linger, it only gives Hanley more timeto plan trickery. "

"Let us try and raise him now, " Jetta suggested. 

The Dutchman, Hans, had joined us. He too, seemed to think my ideaswere good. 

Except for the guards at the cave entrance, all the other bandits werefar gone in drink. With Hans and Gutierrez, we went to the instrumentroom to call Hanley. As we crossed the cave, with Hans and De Boerwalking ahead together, De Boer spoke louder than he realized, and thewords came back to me. 

"Not so bad, Hans? We will use him--but I am not a fool. I'll send himback dead, not alive! A little knife-thrust, just at the end! Safestfor us, eh, Hans?"

CHAPTER XVII

_Within the Black Sack_

We left the bandit stronghold just after nightfall that same day. There were five of us on the X-flyer. Jetta and De Boer, Hans andGutierrez and myself. The negotiations with Hanley had come throughsatisfactorily; to De Boer, certainly, for he was in a triumphant moodas they cast off the aero and we rose over the mist-hung depths. 

It was part of my plan, this meager manning of the bandit ship. But itwas mechanically practical: there was only Hans needed at the controlsfor this short-time flight: with De Boer plotting his course, workingout his last details--and with Gutierrez to guard me. 

De Boer had been quite willing to take no other men--and most of themwere too far gone in their cups to be of much use. I never havefathomed De Boer's final purpose. He promised Jetta now that when Iwas successfully ransomed he would proceed to Cape Town by comfortablenight flights and marry her. It pleased Gutierrez and Hans, for theywanted none of their comrades. The treasure was still on the flyer. The ransom gold would be added to it. I think that De Boer, Gutierrezand Hans planned never to return to their band. Why, when the treasuredivided so nicely among three, break it up to enrich a hundred?

I shall never forget Hanley's grim face as we saw it that afternoon onDe Boer's image-grid. My chief sat at his desk with all his locationdetectors impotent, listening to my disembodied voice explaining whatI wanted him to do. My humble, earnest, frightened desire to beransomed safely at all costs! My plea that he do nothing to try andtrap De Boer!

It hurt me to appear so craven. But with it all, I knew that Hanleyunderstood. He could imagine my leering captor standing at my elbow, prompting my words, dictating my very tone--prodding me with a knifein the ribs. I tried, by every shade of meaning, to convey to Hanleythat I hoped to escape and save the ransom money. And I think that heguessed it, though he was wary in the tone he used for De Boer tohear. He accepted, unhesitatingly, De Boer's proposition: assured ushe would do nothing to assail De Boer; and never once did his grimface convey a hint of anything but complete acquiescence. 

 * * * * *

We had President Markes on the circuit. De Boer, with nothing to lose, promised to return Jetta with me. In gold coin, sixty thousand U. S. Dollar-standards for me; a third as much from Nareda, for Jetta. 

The details were swiftly arranged. We cut the circuit. I had a lastlook at Hanley's face as the image of it faded. He seemed trying totell me to do the best I could; that he was powerless, and would donothing to jeopardize my life and Jetta's. Everything was ready forthe affair to be consummated at once. The weather was right; there wastime for Hanley and De Boer each comfortably to reach the assignedmeeting place. 

We flew, for the first hour, nearly due west. The meeting place was at35 deg. N. By 59 deg. W. , a few hundred miles east by north of thefairy-like mountaintop of the Bermudas. Our charts showed the Lowlandsthere to run down to what once was measured as nearly three thousandfathoms--called now eighteen thousand feet below the zero-height. Abroken region, a depth-ridge fairly level, and no Lowland sea, norany settlements in the neighborhood. 

The time was set at an hour before midnight. No mail, passenger orfreight flyers were scheduled to pass near there at that hour, and, save for some chance private craft, we would be undisturbed. Theransom gold was available to Hanley. He had said he would bring it inhis personal Wasp. 

 * * * * *

The details of the exchange were simple. Hanley, with only onemechanic, would hover at the zero-height, his Wasp lighted so that wecould see it plainly. The wind drift, according to forecast, would besoutherly. At 11 P. M. Hanley would release from his Wasp a smallhelium-gas baloon-car--a ten-foot basket with the supporting gas bagabove it, weighted so that it would slowly descend into the depths, with a southern drift. 

Our flyer, invisible and soundless, would pick up the baloon-car atsome point in its descent. The gold would be there, in a black casket. De Boer would take the gold, deposit Jetta and me in the car, andrelease it again. And when the balloon finally settled to the rocksbeneath, Hanley could pick it up. No men would be hidden by Hanley inthat basket. De Boer had stipulated that when casting loose theballoon, its car must be swept by Hanley with a visible electronicray. No hidden men could withstand that blast!

Such was the arrangement with Hanley. I was convinced that he intendedto carry it out to the letter. He would have his own invisible X-flyerin the neighborhood, no doubt. But it would not interfere with thesafe transfer of Jetta and me. 

That De Boer would carry out his part, Hanley could only trust. He hadsaid so this afternoon bluntly. And De Boer had laughed and interposedhis voice in our circuit. 

"Government money against these two lives, Hanley! Of course you haveto trust me!"

 * * * * *

It was a flight, for us, of something less than four hours to themeeting place. Hans was piloting, seated alone in the little cubbyupon the forward wing-base, directly over the control room. De Boer, with Jetta at his side, worked over his course and watched hisinstrument banks. I was, at the start of the flight, lashed in a chairof the control room, my ankles and wrists tied and Gutierrez guardingme. 

Jetta did not seem to notice me. She did not look at me, nor I at her. She pretended interest only in the success of the transfer; in herfather's treasure on board, the coming ransom money, and then a flightto Cape Town, dividing the treasure only with Hans and Gutierrez; andin her marriage with De Boer. She said she wanted me returned toHanley alive; craven coward that I was, still I did not deserve death. De Boer had agreed. But I knew that at last, as they tumbled me intothe basket, someone would slip a knife into me!

I had, as we came on board, just the chance for a few whisperedsentences with Jetta. But they were enough! We both knew what we hadto do. Desperate expedient, indeed! It seemed more desperate now asthe time approached than it had when I planned it. 

The weather at 7 P. M. Was heavily overcast. Sultry, breathless, withsolid, wide-flung cloud areas spread low over the zero-height. Nightsettled black in the Lowlands. The mists gathered. 

We flew well down--under the minus two thousand-foot level--so thatout of the mists the highest dome peaks often passed close beneath us. 

 * * * * *

At 8 P. M. De Boer flung on the mechanism of invisibility. The interiorof the ship faded to its gruesome green darkness. My senses reeled asthe current surged through me. Lashed in my chair, I sat straining myadjusting eyes, straining my hearing to cope with this gruesomeunreality. And my heart was pounding. Would Jetta and I succeed? Orwas our love--unspoken love, born of a glance and the pressure of ourhands in that moonlit Nareda garden--was our love star-crossed, foredoomed to tragedy? A few hours, now, would tell us. 

De Boer was taking no chances. He was using his greatest intensity ofpower, with every safeguard for complete invisibility and silence. From where I sat I could make out the black form of Hans through theceiling grid, at his pilot controls in the overhead cubby. A queerglow like an aura was around him. The same green radiance suffused thecontrol room. It could not penetrate the opened windows of the ship;could not pass beyond the electro-magnetic field enveloping us. Norcould the curious hum which permeated the ship's interior get past thebarrage barrier. From outside, I knew, we were invisible andinaudible. 

Strange unreality, here in the control room! The black-garbed figuresof De Boer and Jetta at their table were unreal, spectral. At the dooroval, which I could barely see, Gutierrez lurked like a shadow. All ofthem, and Hans in the cubby above, were garbed in tight-fittingdead-black suits of silklene fabric. Thin, elastic as sheer silk web, opaque, lustreless. It covered their feet, legs and bodies; and theirarms and hands like black, silk gloves. Their heads were helmeted withit. And they had black masks which as yet were flapped up and fastenedto the helmet above their foreheads. Their faces only were exposed, tinted a ghastly, lurid green by this strange light. It glowed andglistened like phosphorescence on their eyeballs, making them the eyesof animals in a hunter's torchlight, at night. 

 * * * * *

De Boer moved upon an errand across the control room. He was a burlyblack spectre in the skin-tight suit. His footfalls faintly sounded onthe metal floor. They were toneless footfalls. Unreal. They mighthave been bells, or jangling thuds; they had lost their identity inthis soundless, vibrating hum. 

And he spoke, "We are making good progress, Jetta. We will be ontime. "

Ghastly voice! So devoid of every human timbre, every overtone shadeto give it meaning, that it might have been a man's voice, or awoman's, the voice of something living, or something dead. Sepulchral. A stripped shell of voice. Yet to me, inside here with it, it wasperfectly audible. 

And Jetta said, "Yes, Hendrick, that is good. "

A voice like his: no different. 

Gruesome. Weird. 

 * * * * *

I try now to picture the scene in detail, for out of these strangeconditions Jetta and I were to make our opportunity. 

9 P. M. De Boer was a methodical fellow. He checked his position on thechart. He signalled the routine orders to Hans. And he gestured toGutierrez. The movements and acts of everyone had been definitelyplanned. And this, too, Jetta and I had anticipated. 

"Time to make him ready, Gutierrez. Bring the sack in here. I'llfasten him away. "

I was not garbed like the others. They could move out on the wingrunway under Hanley's eyes at short range, or climb in and out of theballoon car, and not be visible. 

Gutierrez brought the sack. A dead-black fabric. 

"Shall I cut him loose now from his chair, Commander?"

"I'll do it. "

De Boer drew a long knife blade, coated black, and thin and sharp as ahalf-length rapier. Gutierrez had one of similar fashion. Noelectronic weapons were in evidence, probably because the hiss of onefired would have been too loud for our barrage, and its flash toobright. But a knife thrust is dark and silent!

The Spaniard's eyes were gleaming as he approached me with the bag, as though he were thinking of that silent knife thrust he would giveme at the last. 

Dr. Boer said, "Stand up, Grant. " He cut the fastenings that held mein my chair. But my ankles and wrists remained tied. 

"Stand up, can't you?"

"Yes. "

 * * * * *

I got unsteadily to my feet. In the blurred green darkness I could seethat Jetta was not looking at me. Gutierrez held the mouth of the sackopen. As though I were an upright log of wood, De Boer lifted me. 

"Pull it up over his feet, Gutierrez. "

The oblong sack was longer than my body. They drew it over me, andbunched its top over my head. And De Boer laid me none too gently onthe floor. 

"Lie still. Do you get enough air?"

"Yes. "

The black fabric was sufficiently porous for me to breathe comfortablyinside the sack. 

"All right, Gutierrez, I have the gag. "

I felt them carrying me from the control room, twenty feet or so alongthe corridor, where a door-porte opened to a small balcony runway hungbeneath the forward wing. Jutting from it was a little take-offplatform some six feet by twelve in size. It was here that theballoon-basket was to be boarded. The casket containing the ransomgold would be landed here, and the sack containing me placed in thecar and cast loose. It was all within the area of invisibility of ourflyer. 

De Boer knelt over me, and drew back the top of the sack to expose myface. 

"A little gag for you, Grant, so you will not be tempted to call out. "

"I won't do that. "

"You might. Well, good-by, American. "

"Good-by. " And I breathed, "Good-by Jetta. " Would I ever see heragain? Was this the end of everything for us?

 * * * * *

He forced the gag into my mouth, tied it, and verified that my anklesand wrists were securely lashed. In the green radiance he andGutierrez were like ghouls prowling over me, and their muffledtoneless voices, tomblike. 

The sack came up over my head. 

"Good-by, Grant. " I could not tell which one said it. And the otherchuckled. 

I could feel them tying the mouth of the sack above my head. I laystiff. Then I heard their steps. Then silence. 

I moved. I might have rolled, but I did not try it. I could raise myknees within the sack--double up like a folded pocket knife--but thatwas all. 

A long, dark silence. It seemed interminable. Was Gutierrez guardingme here in the corridor? I could not tell; I heard nothing save thevague hum of the electronite current. 

It had been 9 o'clock. Then I fancied that it must be 10. And then, perhaps, almost 11. I wondered what the weather outside was like. Soonwe would be nearing the meeting place. Would Hanley be there? WouldJetta soon, very soon now, be able to do her part? I listened, horribly tense, with every interval between the thumps of my heartseeming so long a gap of waiting. 

 * * * * *

I heard a sound! A toneless, unidentifiable sound. Another like it; alittle sequence of faint sounds. Growing louder. Approachingfootsteps? Jetta's? I prayed so. 

Then a low voice. Two voices. Both the same in quality. But from thewords I could identify them. 

"Hello, Gutierrez. "

"_Niña_, hello. "

Jetta! She had come!

"The captive is safe? No trouble?"

"No. He has not moved. "

"Careful of him, Gutierrez. He is worth a lot of money to us. "

"Well you say it. Señorita. In half an hour now, we will be away. Santa Maria, when this is over I shall breathe with more comfort!"

"We'll have no trouble, Gutierrez. We're almost there. In ten minutesnow, or a little more. "

"So soon? What time is it?"

"Well, after half-past ten. When it's over, Gutierrez, we head forCape Town. Clever of me, don't you think, to persuade Hendrick to takeus to Cape Town? Just you three men to divide all this treasure. Itwould be foolish to let a hundred others have it. "

"True, _Niña_; true enough. "

"I insisted upon you and Hans--Gutierrez, what is that?"

A silence. 

"I heard nothing. "

"A voice, was it?"

"The Americano?"

"No! No--the commander calling? Was it? Calling you, Gutierrez?Perhaps we have sighted Hanley's Wasp. Go! I'll stand here, and comequickly back. "

 * * * * *

Footsteps. Now! Our chance, come at last! I twisted over on my side, and lay motionless. Ah, if only those were Gutierrez' fadingfootfalls! And Jetta, here alone with me in the green darkness! Justfor this one vital moment. 

Fingers were fumbling at the top of my sack, unfastening the cord. Hands and arms came swiftly in. Fingers ran down my back as I lay onmy side to admit them quickly. Fingers went fumbling at the cords thatlashed my crossed wrists behind me. A knee pressed against me. Ahurried, panting, half sobbing breath close over me--

Just a hurried moment. The hands withdrew. The sack went back over myhead. The knees, the slight weight against me, was gone. A few secondsonly. 

Footsteps. The voices again. 

"Was it the commander, Gutierrez?"

"No. I do not know what it was. Nothing, probably. "

"The Wasp in sight?"

"Not yet, _Niña_. You had best go back: De Boer, he might be jealousof us, no? He is busy with his instruments, but should he realize youare here, talking with me--"

"Senseless, Gutierrez!"

"Is it so, _Niña_? I have no attraction? Go back to him. Gold I want, not trouble over you!"

Faint laughter. 

"When we sight the Wasp, I'll call and tell you, Gutierrez. Too badyou won't let me stay with you. I like you. "

"Yes. But go now!"

Faint laughter. Footsteps. Then silence. 

Our vital moment had come and passed. And Jetta had done her part; therole of action upon this dim lurid stage was now mine to play. 

My hands were free. 

CHAPTER XVIII

_The Combat in the Green Darkness_

Another interval. A dead, dark silence. I did not dare move. Gutierrezwas here, within a few feet of me, probably. I wondered if he couldsee the outlines of the black sack. Doubtless they were very vague. But if I exposed my flesh, my face, my hands, that would at onceattract his attention. 

I worked the loosened cords from my wrists; moved my stiffened handsuntil, with returning blood, the strength came to them. I could notreach my bound ankles without doubling up my knees. I did not darechance such a movement of the sack. But, after a moment, I got myhands in front of me. 

Then I took the gag from my mouth and, with a cautious hand, pried atthe top of the sack where it was bunched over my head. Its fasteningwas loose. 

Another interval. A dim muffled voice; "The Wasp is in sight, Gutierrez!"

A movement--a sound like footsteps. Probably Gutierrez moving to thecorridor window to glance at Hanley's distant hovering flyer. I hopedit might be that: I had to take the chance. 

 * * * * *

I slid the bag from my face. I feared an abrupt alarm, or Gutierrezleaping upon me. But there was silence, and I saw his vague darkoutlines at the window oval, five feet from me. 

I got my ankles loose and slid the bag off. I was unsteady on my feet, but desperation aided me. 

Gutierrez half turned as I gripped him from behind. My hand on hismouth stifled his outcry. His black knife blade waved blindly. Then myclenched knuckle caught his temple, and dug with the twisting Santusblow. I was expert at it, and I found the vulnerable spot. 

He crumpled in my grasp, and I slid his falling body across the narrowcorridor into the nearest cubby oval. 

Almost soundless; and in the control room Jetta and De Boer weremurmuring and gazing at Hanley's ship, which hung ahead and above usat the zero-height. 

I had planned all my movements. No motion was lost. Gutierrez wasabout my height and build. I stripped his black suit from him, donnedit, then tied his ankles and wrists, and gagged him against the timewhen he would recover consciousness. Then I stuffed his body in thesack and tied its top. 

This black suit had a mask, rolled up and fastened to the helmet. Iloosed it, dropping it over my face. Knife in hand, I stood at thecorridor window. 

 * * * * *

It was all black outside. The clouds were black overhead; the highestLowland crags, several thousand feet beneath us, were all but blottedout in the murky darkness. Only one thing was to be seen: a quarter ofa mile ahead, now, and a thousand feet higher than our level, theshining, bird-like outlines of Hanley's hovering little Wasp. It stoodlike a painted image of an aero, alone on a dead-black background. Redand green signal-lights dotted it, and on its stern tip a small, spreading searchlight bathed the wings and the body with a revealingsilver radiance. 

Our forward flight had been checked, and we, too, were hovering. Hansdoubtless would remain for a time in the pilot cubby; De Boer andJetta were in the control room. It was only twenty feet away, but Icould barely see its oval entrance. 

"Gutierrez!"

One of them was calling. My hollow empty voice echoed back as I softlyresponded:

"Yes?"

"Be ready. We are arrived. "

"Yes, Commander. All is well. "

I continued to stand at the window. Hanley's little balloon-car wasvisible now. Then he cut it away. We had moved forward in theinterval. The tiny car floated out almost above us. 

My gaze searched the void of darkness outside. Did Hanley have aninvisible flyer out there? Perhaps so. But it could accomplish nothingas yet. It would not even dare approach, for fear of collision withus. 

 * * * * *

The tiny car, with a white pilot light in it, swayed with a slowdescent. The basket beneath the supporting balloon oscillated in awide swing, then steadied. A sudden flash showed up there--a flashingelectronic stream, from Hanley's Wasp to the basket. The shot sweptthe basket interior. No one could be hidden there and survive. 

It was Hanley's proof to us that he was following instructions. 

"Hah! He obeys properly, Jetta!"

The voice floated back to me from the control room. Could I creep inthere, surprise De Boer now, and kill him? Doubtless. But it wouldalarm Hans. I must await my chance to get them together. 

"Gutierrez! Hans, get us under it! Gutierrez!"

The vague outline of De Boer came toward me in the corridor, burlydark blob. His mask was down now. There were points of light, glowinglike faint distant stars, to mark his eyes. 

"Gutierrez. "

"Yes. "

A small black figure followed after him. Jetta. 

"Yes, De Boer. " I stood over the sack. "I am ready. "

De Boer's giant shape towered beside me. Now! My knife thrust now! ButHans was coming toward us. He would take alarm before I could reachhim. 

"Open the side porte, Gutierrez. Hurry, the car is here. Hans, youshould have stayed up there!"

"The drift is calculated; the car is just here. "

We were all swift-moving shadows; disembodied voices. 

"Get that porte open. "

"Yes. " I opened it. 

 * * * * *

We went outside on the runway. I passed close to Jetta, and just foran instant pressed my gloved fingers on the black fabric of herarm--and she knew. 

"Now, seize it. "

"Here, Hans, climb up. "

"I have it. Pull it, Gutierrez!"

The car drifted at us from the black void. We caught it. 

"Hold it, Gutierrez. "

"Hans, clip the balloon. Up with you. "

In the blurred haste, I could not get them together. I did not want tokill one and have the other leap upon me. 

We fastened the little balloon and dragged the car onto the take-offplatform. The shape of Hans leaped into the car. 

"It is here! The ransom money!"

"Lift it to me. Heavy?"

"Yes. "

"Gutierrez, help me. Hurry! If Hanley tries any trickery--"

Our aero was drifting downward and southward in the slight wind. Hanley's Wasp still hovered at the zero-height. 

"In, Gutierrez. "

 * * * * *

Hans and I hauled out the heavy casket and placed it on the wingrunway. De Boer pried up its lid. The gold was there. I could not tellwhere Jetta was; I prayed she would keep away from this. 

Then the shape of De Boer was missing! But in a moment he appeared, dragging the sack. 

"Lift him, Gutierrez. Hans, unclip the balloon and shove off the car!"

We were all standing at the two-foot rail of the runway. Thecar-basket, floating now, was off side and level with us. My chance!

"In with him, Gutierrez. "

I shoved the body, encased in its black sack, with Hans helping me. And suddenly De Boer's knife came down at the sack! A stab. But aninstinct to save the poor wretch within swept me. I struck at DeBoer's arm and deflected the blow. The sack tumbled into the car. 

I had neglected whatever chance had existed. Too late now!

"What in the hell!"

De Boer's shape seized me. 

"What--"

It sent me into a sudden confusion. I flung him off. I stumbledagainst the shape of Hans. 

The car was almost loose; drifting away. 

Without thought--a frantic impulse--I pushed Hans over the brink. Hefell into the car. It swayed into an oscillation with the impact. Theballoon sank below our wing level and was gone, with only Hans, muffled shouts floating up. 

 * * * * *

And De Boer came leaping at me from behind. I whirled around. Mydanger was too much for the watching Jetta. She screamed. 

"Philip, look out for him!"

"Hah! The American. By damn, what is this?"

It gave De Boer pause. He gripped a wing stay-wire for a second. 

Then he came with a rush. 

The corridor door was open behind me. I flung myself into it--andcollided with a shape. 

"Philip!"

I shoved at her frantically. 

"Jetta, get back! Away from us!"

I pulled at her, half falling. De Boer's shape came through thedoorway into the corridor. And was blotted out in the green darknessas he turned the other way, to avoid me if I struck. 

A silence. The shadow of Jetta was behind me. I stood with poisedknife, listening, straining my eyes through the faint green darkness. De Boer was here, knife in hand, fallen now into craftly, motionlesssilence. He might have been close here down the corridor. Or in anyone of these nearby cubby doorways. 

I slid forward along the wall. The corridor was solid black down itslength: the green radiance seemed brighter at the control room behindme. Had De Boer gone into this solid blackness, to lure me?

 * * * * *

I stopped my advance. Stood again, trying to see or hear something. 

And then I saw him! Two small glowing points of light. Distant stars. His eyes! Five feet ahead of me? Or ten? Or twenty?

A rustle. A sound. 

His dark form materialized as he came--a huge, black blob overwhelmingme, his arm and knife blade striking. 

I dropped to the floor-grid, and his blade went over me. And as Idropped, I struck with an upward thrust. My knife met solidity; sankinto flesh. 

I twisted past him on the floor as he fell. My knife was gone: buriedin him. 

Words were audible; choking gasps. I could see his form rising, staggering. The open porte was near him; he swayed through it. 

Did he know he was mortally wounded? I think so. He swayed on the wingrunway, and I slid to the door and stood watching. And was aware ofthe shadow of Jetta creeping to join me. 

"Is he--?"

"Quiet, Jetta. "

He stood under the wing, swaying, gripping a stay. Then his voicesounded, and it seemed like a laugh. 

"The craven American--wins. " He moved a step. "Not to see--me die--"

He toppled at the rail. "Good-by, Jetta. "

A great huddled shadow. A blob, toppling, falling. .. . 

Far down there now the crags and peaks of the Lowland depths werevisible. The darkness swallowed his whirling body. We could not hearthe impact. 

CHAPTER XIX

_Episode of the Lowlands_

There is but little remaining for me to record. I could not operatethe mechanism of invisibility of De Boer's X-flyer. But its pilotcontrols were simple. With Jetta at my side, trembling now that ourgruesome task was over, we groped our way through the green darknessand mounted to the pilot cubby. And within ten minutes I had loweredthe ship into the depths, found a landing place upon the dark rocks, and brought us down. 

Hanley's Wasp had landed: we saw its lights half a mile from us. Andthen the lights of another ship--an X-flyer convoying Hanley--slowlymaterializing nearby. 

And then reunion. Jetta and I left De Boer's invisible vessel andclambered over the rocks. And presently Hanley, staring at ourgrotesque black forms, came rushing forward and greeted us. 

We were an hour locating De Boer's flyer, for all that Jetta and I hadjust left it and thought we could find our way back. But we stumbledonto it at last. Hanley felt his way aboard and brought it tovisibility. It has since been returned to the Anti-War Department, with the compliments of Hanley's Office. 

The ransom money was restored to its proper source. Spawn's treasureof radiumized quicksilver we shipped back to Nareda, where it waschecked and divided, and Jetta's share legally awarded to her. 

De Boer was dead when Hanley found him that night on the rocks. Jettaand I did not go to look at him. .. . 

The balloon basket landed safely. Hanley and his men were down therein time to seize it. Hans was caught; and Gutierrez, within the sack, was found to be uninjured. They are incarcerated now in Nareda. Theywere willing to tell the location of the bandit stronghold. A raidthere the following day resulted in the capture of most of De Boer'smen. 

All this is now public news. You have heard it, of course. Yet in mynarrative, setting down the events as I lived them, I have tried togive more vivid details than the bare facts as they were blaredthrough the public audiphones. 

An episode of the strange, romantic, fantastic Lowlands. A veryunimportant series of incidents mingled with the news of a busyworld--just a few minutes of the newscasters' time to tell how a bandof depth smugglers was caught. 

But it was a very important episode to me. It changed, for me, aclanking, thrumming machine-made world into a shining fairyland ofdreams come true. It gave me little Jetta. 

(_The End_)

Vagabonds of Space

A COMPLETE NOVELETTE

_By Harl Vincent_

[Illustration: _Carr went mad with fury. There it was, looming closein his vision. _]

[Sidenote: From the depths of the Sargasso Sea of Space came thethought-warning, "Turn back!" But Carr and his Martian friend found itwas too late!]

CHAPTER I

_The Nomad_

Gathered around a long table in a luxuriously furnished director'sroom, a group of men listened in astonishment to the rapid andforceful speech of one of their number. 

"I tell you I'm through, gentlemen, " averred the speaker. "I'm fed upwith the job, that's all. Since 2317 you've had me sitting at the helmof International Airways and I've worked my fool head off for you. Now--get someone else!"

"Made plenty of money yourself, didn't you, Carr?" asked one of thedirectors, a corpulent man with a self-satisfied countenance. 

"Sure I did. That's not the point. I've done all the work. There's notanother executive in the outfit whose job is more than a title, andyou know it. I want a change and a rest. Going to take it, too. So, goahead with your election of officers and leave me out. "

"Your stock?" Courtney Davis, chairman of the board, sensed that CarrParker meant what he said. 

"I'll hold it. The rest of you can vote it as you choose: divide theproxies pro rata, based on your individual holdings. But I reserve theright to dump it all on the market at the first sign of shadydealings. That suit you?"

The recalcitrant young President of International Airways had risenfrom the table. The chairman attempted to restrain him. 

"Come on now, Carr, let's reason this out. Perhaps if you just took aleave of absence--"

"Call it anything you want. I'm done right now. "

Carr Parker stalked from the room, leaving eleven perspiringcapitalists to argue over his action. 

 * * * * *

He rushed to the corridor and nervously pressed the call button of theelevators. A minute later he emerged upon the roof of the Airwaysbuilding, one of the tallest of New York's mid-town sky-scrapers. Theair here, fifteen hundred feet above the hot street, was cool andfresh. He walked across the great flat surface of the landing stage toinspect a tiny helicopter which had just settled to a landing. Angeredas he was, he still could not resist the attraction these trim littlecraft had always held for him. The feeling was in his blood. 

His interest, however, was short lived and he strolled to theobservation aisle along the edge of the landing stage. He staredmoodily into the heavens where thousands of aircraft of alldescriptions sped hither and yon. A huge liner of the Martian routewas dropping from the skies and drifting toward her cradle on LongIsland. He looked out over the city to the north: fifty miles of it heknew stretched along the east shore of the Hudson. Greatest of thecities of the world, it housed a fifth of the population of the UnitedStates of North America; a third of the wealth. 

Cities! The entire world lived in them! Civilization was too highlydeveloped nowadays. Adventure was a thing of the past. Of course therewere the other planets, Mars and Venus, but they were as bad. At leasthe had found them so on his every business trip. He wished he hadlived a couple of centuries ago, when the first space-ships venturedforth from the earth. Those were days of excitement and daringenterprise. Then a man could find ways of getting away fromthings--next to nature--out into the forests; hunting; fishing. Butthe forests were gone, the streams enslaved by the power monopolies. There were only the cities--and barren plains. Everything in life wasmade by man, artificial. 

 * * * * *

Something drew his eyes upward and he spotted an unusual object in theheavens, a mere speck as yet but drawing swiftly in from the upper airlanes. But this ship, small though it appeared, stood out from amongstits fellows for some reason. Carr rubbed his eyes to clear his vision. Was it? Yes--it was--surrounded by a luminous haze. Notwithstandingthe brilliance of the afternoon sun, this haze was clearly visible. Asilver shimmering that was not like anything he had seen on Earth. Theship swung in toward the city and was losing altitude rapidly. Itssilvery aura deserted it and the vessel was revealed as a sleek, tapered cylinder with no wings, rudders or helicopter screws. Like thegiant liners of the Interplanetary Service it displayed no visiblemeans of support or propulsion. This was no ordinary vessel. 

Carr watched in extreme interest as it circled the city in a hugespiral, settling lower at each turn. It seemed that the pilot wassearching for a definite landing stage. Then suddenly it swooped witha rush. Straight for the stage of the Airways building! The strangeaura reappeared and the little vessel halted in mid-air, poised amoment, then dropped gracefully and lightly as a feather to the levelsurface not a hundred feet from where he stood. He hurried to the spotto examine the strange craft. 

"Mado!" he exclaimed in surprise as a husky, bronzed Martian squeezedthrough the quickly opened manhole and clambered heavily to theplatform. Mado of Canax--an old friend!

"Devils of Terra!" gasped the Martian, his knees giving way, "--yourmurderous gravity! Here, help me. I've forgotten the energizingswitch. "

 * * * * *

Carr laughed as he fumbled with a mechanism that was strapped to theMartian's back. Mado, who tipped the scales at over two hundred poundson his own planet, weighed nearly six hundred here. His legs simplycouldn't carry the load!

"There you are, old man. " Parker had located the switch and a musicalpurr came from the black box between the Martian's broad shoulders. "Now stand up and tell me what you're doing here. And what's the ideaof the private ship? Come all the way from home in it?"

His friend struggled to his feet with an effort, for the fieldemanating from the black box required a few seconds to reach theintensity necessary to counteract two-thirds of the earth's gravity. 

"Thanks Carr, " he grinned. "Yes, I came all the way in that bus. Alone, too--and she's mine! What do you think of her?"

"A peach, from what I can see. But how come? Not using a privatespace-flier on your business trips, are you?"

"Not on your life! I've retired. Going to play around for a few years. That's why I bought the Nomad. "

"Retired! Why Mado, I just did the same thing. "

"Great stuff! They've worked you to death. What are you figuring ondoing with yourself?"

Carr shrugged his shoulders resignedly. "Usual thing, I suppose. Travel aimlessly, and bore myself into old age. Nothing else to do. Nokick out of life these days at all, Mado, even in chasing around fromplanet to planet. They're all the same. "

 * * * * *

The Martian looked keenly at his friend. "Oh, is that so?" he said. "No kick, eh? Well, let me tell you, Carr Parker, you come with me andwe'll find something you'll get a kick out of. Ever seen the SargassoSea of the solar system? Ever been on one of the asteroids? Ever seenthe other side of the Moon--Uranus--Neptune--Planet 9, the farthestout from the sun?"

"No-o. " Carr's eyes brightened somewhat. 

"Then you haven't seen anything or been anywhere. Trouble with you isyou've been in the rut too long. Thinking there's nothing left in theuniverse but the commonplace. Right, too, if you stick to the regularroutes of travel. But the _Nomad's_ different. I'm just a rover whenI'm at her controls, a vagabond in space--free as the ether thatsurrounds her air-tight hull. And, take it from me, there's somethingto see and do out there in space. Off the usual lanes, perhaps, butit's there. "

"You've been out--how long?" Carr hesitated. 

"Eighty Martian days. Seen plenty too. " He waved his arm in a gesturethat seemed to take in the entire universe. 

"Why come here, with so much to be seen out there?"

"Came to visit you, old stick-in-the-mud, " grinned Mado, "and to tryand persuade you to join me. I find you footloose already. You'reitching for adventure; excitement. Will you come?"

Carr listened spellbound. "Right now?" he asked. 

"This very minute. Come on. "

"My bag, " objected Carr, "it must be packed. I'll need funds too. "

"Bag! What for? Plenty of duds on the _Nomad_--for any old climate. And money--don't make me laugh! Vagabonds need money?" He backedtoward the open manhole of the _Nomad_, still grinning. 

Carr hesitated, resisting the impulse to take Mado at his word. Helooked around. The landing stage had been deserted, but people nowwere approaching. People not to be tolerated at the moment. He sawCourtney Davis, grim and determined. There'd be more arguments, useless but aggravating. Well, why not go? He'd decided to break away. What better chance? Suddenly he dived for the manhole of Mado'svessel; wriggled his way to the padded interior of the air-lock. Heheard the clang of the circular cover. Mado was clamping it to itsgasketed seat. 

"Let's go!" he shouted. 

CHAPTER II

_Into the Heavens_

The directors of International Airways stared foolishly when they sawCarr Parker and the giant Martian enter the mysterious ship which wasa trespasser on their landing stage. They gazed incredulously as thegleaming torpedo-shaped vessel arose majestically from its position. There was no evidence of motive power other than a sudden radiationfrom its hull plates of faintly crackling streamers of silvery light. They fell back in alarm as it pointed its nose skyward and acceleratedwith incredible rapidity, the silver energy bathing them in itsblinding luminescence. They burst forth in excited recrimination whenit vanished into the blue. Courtney Davis shook his fist after thedeparting vessel and swore mightily. 

Carr Parker forgot them entirely when he clambered into the bucketseat beside Mado, who sat at the Nomad's controls. He was free atlast: free to probe the mysteries of outer space, to roam the skieswith this Martian he had admired since boyhood. 

"Glad you came?" Mado asked his Terrestrial friend. 

"You bet. But tell me about yourself. How you've been and how comeyou've rebelled, too? I haven't seen you for a long time, you know. Why, it's been years!"

"Oh, I'm all right. Guess I got fed up with things about the same wayyou did. Knew last time I saw you that you were feeling as I did. That's why I came after you. "

"But this vessel, the _Nomad_. I didn't know such a thing was inexistence. How does it operate? It seems quite different from theusual ether-liners. "

 * * * * *

"It's a mystery ship. Invented and built by Thrygis, a discreditedscientist of my country. Spent a fortune on it and then went broke andkilled himself. I bought it from the executors for a song. Theythought it was a pile of junk. But the plans and notes of the inventorwere there and I studied 'em well. The ship is a marvel, Carr. Utilizes gravitational attraction and reversal as a propelling forceand can go like the Old Boy himself. I've hit two thousand miles asecond with her. "

"A second! Why, that's ten times as fast as the regular liners! Mustuse a whale of a lot of fuel. And where do you keep it? The fuel, Imean. "

"Make it right on board. I'm telling you Carr, the _Nomad_ has noequal. She's a corker. "

"I'll say she is. But what do you mean--make the fuel?"

"Cosmic rays. Everywhere in space you know. Seems they are the resultof violent concentrations of energy that cause the birth of atoms. Thrygis doped out a collector of these rays that takes 'em from theirpaths and concentrates 'em in a retort where there's a spongy metalcatalyst that never deteriorates. Here there is a reaction to theoriginal action out in space and new atoms are born, simple ones ofhydrogen. But what could be sweeter for use in one of our regularatomic motors? The energy of disintegration is used to drive thegenerators of the artificial gravity field, and there you are. Soundscomplicated, but really isn't. And nothing to get out of whackeither. "

 * * * * *

"Beats the rocket motors and bulky fuel of the regular liners a mile, doesn't it? But since when are you a navigator, Mado?"

"Don't need to be a navigator with the _Nomad_. She's automatic, oncethe controls are set. Say we wish to visit Venus. The telescope issighted on that body and the gravity forces adjusted so we'll beattracted in that direction and repelled in the opposite direction. Then we can go to bed and forget it. The movement of the body in itsorbit makes no difference because the force follows wherever it goes. See? The speed increases until the opposing forces are equal, whendeceleration commences and we gradually slow down until within tenthousand miles of the body, when the _Nomad_ automatically stops. Doesn't move either, until we awaken to take the controls. How's thatfor simple?"

"Good enough. But suppose a wandering meteor or a tiny asteroid getsin the way? At our speed it wouldn't have to be as big as your fist togo through us like a shot. "

"All taken care of, my dear Carr. I told you Thrygis was a wiz. Such ahappenstance would disturb the delicate balance of the energycompensators and the course of the _Nomad_ would instantly alter tododge the foreign object. Once passed by, the course would again beresumed. "

"Some ship, the _Nomad_!" Carr was delighted with the explanations. "I'm sold on her and on the trip. Where are we now and where bound?"

 * * * * *

Mado glanced at the instrument board. "Nearly a million miles out andheaded for that Sargasso Sea I told you about, " he said. "It isn'tvisible in the telescope, but I've got it marked by the stars. Outbetween the orbits of Mars and Jupiter, a quarter of a billion milesaway. But we'll average better than a thousand miles a second. Bethere in three days of your time. "

"How can there be a sea out there in space?"

"Oh, that's just my name for it. Most peculiar thing, though. There'sa vast, billowy sort of a cloud. Twists and weaves around as if alive. Looks like seaweed or something; and Carr, I swear there are thingsfloating around in it. Wrecks. Something damn peculiar, anyway. I vowI saw a signal. People marooned there or something. Sorta scared meand I didn't stay around for long as there was an awful pull from themass. Had to use full reversal of the gravity force to get away. "

"Now why didn't you tell me that before? That's something to thinkabout. Like the ancient days of ocean-going ships on Earth. "

"Tell you? How could I tell you? You've been questioning me ever sinceI first saw you and I've been busy every minute answering you. "

Carr laughed and slid from his seat to the floor. He felt curiouslylight and loose-jointed. A single step carried him to one of thestanchions of the control cabin and he clung to it for a moment toregain his equilibrium. 

"What's wrong?" he demanded. "No internal gravity mechanism on the_Nomad_?"

"Sure is. But it's adjusted for Martian gravity. You'll get along, butit wouldn't be so easy for me with Earth gravity. I'd have to wear theportable G-ray all the time, and that's not so comfortable. All rightwith you?"

"Oh, certainly. I didn't understand. "

 * * * * *

Carr saw that his friend had unstrapped the black box from hisshoulders. He didn't blame him. Glad he wasn't a Martian. It wasmighty inconvenient for them on Venus or Terra. Their bodies, largeand of double the specific gravity, were not easily handled wheregravity was nearly three times their own. The Venusians andTerrestrials were more fortunate when on Mars, for they could becomeaccustomed to the altered conditions. Only had to be careful theydidn't overdo. He remembered vividly a quick move he had made on hisfirst visit to Mars. Carried him twenty feet to slam against a granitepedestal. Bad cut that gave him, and the exertion in the rarefiedatmosphere had him gasping painfully. 

He walked to one of the ports and peered through its thick window. Mado was fussing with the controls. The velvety blackness of theheavens; the myriad diamond points of clear brilliance. Cold, too, itlooked out there, and awesomely vast. The sun and Earth had been leftbehind and could not be seen. But Carr didn't care. The heavens weremarvelous when viewed without the obstruction of an atmosphere. Buthe'd seen them often enough on his many business trips to Mars andVenus. 

"Ready for bed?" Mado startled him with a tap on the shoulder. 

"Why--if you say so. But you haven't shown me through the _Nomad_yet. "

"All the time in the universe for that. Man, don't you realize you'refree? Come, let's grab some sleep. Need it out here. The ship'll behere when we wake up. She's flying herself right now. Fast, too. "

Carr looked at the velocity indicator. Seven hundred miles a secondand still accelerating! He felt suddenly tired and when Mado openedthe door of a sleeping cabin its spotless bunk looked very inviting. He turned in without protest. 

CHAPTER III

_A Message_

The days passed quickly, whether measured by the Martian chronometeraboard the _Nomad_ or by Carr's watch, which he was regulating tomatch the slightly longer day of the red planet. He was becomingproficient in the operation of all mechanisms of the ship and haddeveloped a fondness for its every appointment. 

Behind them the sun was losing much of its blinding magnificence as itreceded into the ebon background of the firmament. The Earth was butone of the countless worlds visible through the stern ports, distinguishable by its slightly greenish tinge. They had reached thevicinity of the phenomenon of space Mado had previously discovered. Carr found himself seething with excitement as the _Nomad_ was broughtto a drifting speed. 

Mado, who had disclaimed all knowledge of navigation, was busy in theturret with a sextant. He made rapid calculations based on itsindications and hurried to the controls. 

"Find it?" Carr asked. 

"Yep. Be there in a half hour. "

The nose of the vessel swung around and Mado adjusted the gravityenergy carefully. Carr glued his eye to the telescope. 

"See anything?" inquired Mado. 

"About a million stars, that's all. "

"Funny. Should be close by. "

Then: "Yes! Yes! I see it!" Carr exulted. "A milky cloud. Transparentalmost. To the right a little more!"

The mysterious cloud rushed to meet them and soon was visible to thenaked eye through the forward port. Their speed increased alarminglyand Mado cut off the energy. 

"What's that?" Mado stared white-faced at his friend. 

"A voice! You hear it too?"

"Yes. Listen!"

Amazed, they gazed at each other. It was a voice; yet not a sound cameto their ears. The voice was in their own consciousness. A mentalmessage! Yet each heard and understood. There were no words, but clearmental images. 

"Beware!" it seemed to warn. "Come not closer, travelers from afar. There is danger in the milky fleece before you!"

 * * * * *

Mado pulled frantically at the energy reverse control. The force wasnow fully repelling. Still the billowing whiteness drew nearer. Itboiled and bubbled with the ferocity of one of the hot lava cauldronsof Mercury. Changing shape rapidly, it threw out long streamers thatwrithed and twisted like the arms of an octopus. Reaching. Searchingfor victims!

"God!" whispered Carr. "What is it?"

"Take warning, " continued the voice that was not a voice. "A greatship, a royal ship from a world unknown to you, now is caught in thegrip of this mighty monster. We can not escape, and death drawsquickly near. But we can warn others and ask that our fate be reportedto our home body. "

A sudden upheaval of the monstrous mass spewed forth an object thatbounced a moment on the rippling surface and then was lost to view. Asphere, glinting golden against the white of its awful captor. 

"The space-ship!" gasped Mado. "It's vanished again!"

They hurtled madly in the direction of this monster of the heavens, their reverse energy useless. 

"We're lost, Mado. " Carr was calm now. This was excitement with avengeance. He'd wished for it and here it was. But he'd much ratherhave a chance to fight for his life. Fine ending to his dreams!

"Imps of the canals! The thing's alive!" Mado hurled himself at thecontrols as a huge blob of the horrible whiteness broke loose from themain body and wobbled uncertainly toward them. A long feeler reachedforth and grasped the errant portion, returning it with a viciousjerk. 

"Turn back! Turn back!" came the eery warning from the golden sphere. "All is over for us. Our hull is crushed. The air is pouring from ourlast compartment. Already we find breathing difficult. Turn back! Thethird satellite of the fifth planet is our home. Visit it, we beseechyou, and report the manner of our going. This vile creature of spacehas power to draw you to its breast, to crush you as we are crushed. "

 * * * * *

The _Nomad_ lurched and shuddered, drawn ever closer to the horridmass of the thing. A gigantic jellyfish, that's what it was, a hundredmiles across! Carr shivered in disgust as it throbbed anew, sendingout those grasping streamers of its mysterious material. As the_Nomad_ plunged to its doom with increasing speed, Mado tried tolocate some spot in the universe where an extreme effect could beobtained from the full force of the attracting or repulsive energies. They darted this way and that but always found themselves closer tothe milky billows that now were pulsating in seeming eagerness toengulf the new victim. 

Once more came the telepathic warning, "Delay no longer. It is hightime you turned back. You must escape to warn our people and yours. Even now the awful creature has us in its vitals, its tentaclesreaching through our shattered walls, creeping and twining through thepassages of our vessel. Crushing floors and walls, its demoniacenergies heating our compartment beyond belief. We can hold out nolonger. Go! Go quickly. Remember--the third satellite of the fifthplanet--to the city of golden domes. Tell of our fate. Our people willunderstand. You--"

The voice was stilled. Mado groaned as if in pain and Carr saw in thatinstant that each knob and lever on the control panel glowed with anunearthly brush discharge. Not violet as of high frequencyelectricity, but red. Cherry red as of heated metal. The emanations ofthe cosmic monster were at work on the _Nomad_. A glance through theforward port showed they had but a few miles to go. They'd be in theclutches of the horror in minutes, seconds, at the rate they weretraveling. Mado slumped in his seat, his proud head rollinggrotesquely on his breast. He slid to the floor, helpless. 

 * * * * *

Carr went mad with fury. It couldn't be! This thing of doom was acreature of his imagination! But no--there it was, looming close inhis vision. By God, he'd leave the mark of the _Nomad_ on the viciousthing! He remembered the ray with which the vessel was armed. He wasin the pilot's seat, fingering controls that blistered his hands andcramped his arms with an unnameable force. He'd fight the brute! Fullenergy--head on--that was the way to meet it. Why bother with thereversal? It was no use. 

A blood-red veil obscured his vision. He felt for the release of theray; pulled the gravity energy control to full power forward. In adaze, groping blindly for support, he waited for the shock of impact. The mass of that monstrosity must be terrific, else why had it such apower of attraction for other bodies? Or was it that the thingradiated energies unknown to science? Whatever it was, the thing wouldknow the sting of the _Nomad's_ ray. Whatever its nature, animate orinanimate, it was matter. The ray destroyed matter. Obliterated itutterly. Tore the atoms asunder, whirling their electrons from theirorbits with terrific velocity. There'd be some effect, that wascertain! No great use perhaps. But a crater would mark the lastresting place of the _Nomad_; a huge crater. Perhaps the mistywhiteness would close in over them later. But there'd be less of thecreature's bulk to menace other travelers in space. 

His head ached miserably; his body was shot through and through withcramping agonies. The very blood in his veins was liquid fire, searinghis veins and arteries with pulsing awfulness. He staggered from thecontrol cabin; threw himself on his bunk. The covers were electrifiedand clung to him like tissue to rubbed amber. The wall of the sleepingcabin vibrated with a screeching note. The floors trembled. Madness!That's all it was! He'd awaken in a moment. Find himself in his ownbed at home. He'd dreamed of adventures before now. But never of suchas this! It just couldn't happen! A nightmare--fantasy of anover-tired brain--it was. 

There came a violent wrench that must have torn the hull plates fromtheir bracings. The ship seemed to close in on him and crush him. Aterrific concussion flattened him to the bunk. Then all was still. Carr Parker's thoughts broke short abruptly. He had slipped intounconsciousness. 

CHAPTER IV

_Europa_

When Carr opened his eyes it was to the normal lighting of his ownsleeping cabin. The _Nomad_ was intact, though an odor of scorchedvarnish permeated the air. They were unharmed--as yet. He turned onhis side and saw that Mado was moving about at the side of his couch. Good old Mado! With a basin of water in his hand and a cloth. He'dbeen bathing his face. Brought him to. He sat up just as Mado turnedto apply the cloth anew. 

"Good boy, Carr! All right?" smiled the Martian. 

"Little dizzy. But I'm okay. " Carr sprang to his feet where he wabbleduncertainly for a moment. "But the _Nomad?_" he asked. "Is she--are wesafe?"

"Never safer. What in the name of Saturn did you do?"

Carr passed his hand across his eyes, trying to remember. "The D-ray, "he said. "I turned it on and dived into the thing with fullattraction. Then--I forget. Where is it--the thing, I mean?"

"Look!" Mado drew him to the stern compartment. 

Far behind them there shone a misty wreath, a ring of drifting matterthat writhed and twisted as if in mortal agony. 

"Is that it?"

"What's left of it. You shot your way through it; through and out ofits influence. D-ray must have devitalized the thing as it boredthrough. Killed its energies--for the time, at least. "

Already, the thing was closing in. Soon there would be a solid mass asbefore. But the _Nomad_ was saved. 

"How about yourself?" asked Carr anxiously. "Last time I saw you youwere flat on the floor. "

"Nothing wrong with me now. A bit stiff and sore, that's all. When Icame to I put all the controls in neutral and came looking for you. Iwas scared, but the thing's all over now, so let's go. "

"Where?"

"Europa. "

"Where's that?"

"Don't you remember? The third satellite of the fifth planet. That'sEuropa, third in distance from Jupiter, the fifth planet. It is aboutthe size of Terra's satellite--your Moon. We'll find the city of thegolden domes. "

 * * * * *

Carr's eyes renewed their sparkle. "Right!" he exclaimed. "I forgotthe mental message. Poor devils! All over for them now. But we'llcarry their message. How far is it?"

"Don't know yet till I determine our position and the position ofJupiter. But it's quite a way. Jupiter's 483 million miles from theSun, you know. "

"We're more than half way, then. "

"Not necessarily. Perhaps we're on the opposite side of the sun fromJupiter's present position. Then we'd have a real trip. "

"Let's figure it out. " Carr was anxious to be off. 

Luck was with them, as they found after some observations from theturret. Jupiter lay off their original course by not more than fifteendegrees. It was but four days' journey. 

Again they were on their way and the two men, Martian and Terrestrial, made good use of the time in renewing their old friendship and in thestudy of astronomy as they had done during the first leg of theirjourney. Though of widely differing build and nature, the two found aclose bond in their similar inclinations. The library of the Nomad wasan excellent one. Thrygis had seen to that, all of the voice-visionreels being recorded in Cos, the interplanetary language, with itsstandardized units of weight and measurement. 

 * * * * *

The supplies on board the _Nomad_ were ample. Synthetic foods therewere for at least a hundred Martian days. The supply of oxygen andwater was inexhaustible, these essential items being produced inautomatic retorts where disassembled electrons from their cosmic-rayhydrogen were reassembled in the proper structure to produce atoms ofany desired element. Their supply of synthetic food could bereplenished in like manner when necessity arose. Thrygis had forgottennothing. 

"How do you suppose we'll make ourselves understood to the people ofEuropa?" asked Carr, when they had swung around the great orb ofJupiter and were headed toward the satellite. 

"Shouldn't have any trouble, Carr. Believe me, to a people who haveprogressed to the point of sending mental messages over five hundredmiles of space, it'll be a cinch, understanding our simple mentalprocesses. Bet they'll read our every thought. "

"That's right. But the language. Proper names and all that. Can't getthose over with thought waves. "

"No, but I'll bet they'll have some way of solving that too. You waitand see. "

Carr lighted a cigar and inhaled deeply as he gazed from one of theports. He'd never felt better in his life. Always had liked Martiantobacco, too. Wondered what they'd do when the supply ran out. Onething they couldn't produce synthetically. The disc of the satelliteloomed near and it shone with a warmly inviting light. Almost red, like the color of Mars, it was. Sort of golden, rather. Anyway, hewondered what awaited them there. This was a great life, this roamingin space, unhampered by laws or conventions. The _Nomad_ was wellnamed. 

"Wonder what they'll think of our yarn, " he said. 

"And me. I wonder, too, what that ungodly thing was back there. Thething that is now the grave of some of their people. And what thegolden sphere was doing so far from home. It's a mystery. "

 * * * * *

They had gone over the same ground a hundred times and had not reacheda satisfactory conclusion. But perhaps they'd learn more in the cityof golden domes. 

"Another thing, " said Carr, "that's puzzled me. Why is it that Europahas not been discovered before this; that it's inhabited, I mean?"

"Rocket ships couldn't carry enough fuel. Besides, our astronomers'vealways told us that the outer planets were too cold; too far from thesun. "

"That is something to think about. Maybe we'll not be able to standthe low temperature; thin atmosphere; low surface gravity. "

"We've our insulated suits and the oxygen helmets for the first twoobjections. The G-rays'll hold us down in any gravity. But we'll seemighty soon. We're here. "

They had entered the atmosphere as they talked and the _Nomad_ wasapproaching the surface in a long glide with repulsion full on. It wasdaytime on the side they neared. Pale daylight, but revealing. Thegreat ball that was Jupiter hung low on the horizon, its misty outlinefaintly visible against the deep green of the sky. 

 * * * * *

The surface over which they skimmed was patchworked with farm-landsand crisscrossed by gleaming ribbons. Roadways! It was like thevoice-vision records of the ancient days on Mars and Terra beforetheir peoples had taken to the air. Here was a body where a personcould get out in the open; next to nature. They crossed a lake of calmgreen water fringed by golden sands. At its far side a village spreadout beneath them and was gone; a village of broad pavements andcircular dwellings with flat rooms, each with its square of ground. Agolden, mountain range loomed in the background; vanished beneaththem. More fields and roads. Everywhere there were yellows and redsand the silver sheen of the roads. No green save that of the darkeningsky and the waters of the streams and ponds. It was a most invitingpanorama. 

Occasionally they passed a vessel of the air--strange flapping-wingedcraft that soared and darted like huge birds. Once one of themapproached so closely they could see its occupants, seemingly a peoplesimilar to the Venusians, small of stature and slender. 

"How in time are we to find this city of golden domes?" Carrejaculated. 

As if in answer to his question there came a startling command, another of the mental messages. 

"Halt!" it conveyed to their mind. "Continue not into our countryuntil we have communed with you. "

Obediently Mado brought up the nose of the _Nomad_ and slowed her downto a gradual stop. They hovered at an altitude of about four thousandfeet, both straining their ears as if listening for actual speech. 

"It is well, " continued the message. "Your thoughts are good. You comefrom afar seeking the city of golden domes. Proceed now and a fleet ofour vessels will meet you and guide you to our city. "

"Now wouldn't that jar you?" whispered Carr. "Just try to get awaywith anything on this world. "

Mado laughed as he started the generators of the propellingenergy. "I'd hate to have a wife of Europa, " he commented. "Nositting-up-with-sick-friend story could get by with her!"

CHAPTER V

_The City of Golden Domes_

With the _Nomad_ cruising slowly over the surface of the peacefulsatellite, Mado sampled the atmosphere through a tube which wasprovided for that purpose. The pressure was low, as they had expected;about twenty inches of mercury in the altitude at which they drifted. But the oxygen content was fairly high and the impurities negligible. A strange element was somewhat in evidence, though Mado's analysisshowed this to be present in but minute quantity. They opened theports and drew their first breath of the atmosphere of Europa. 

"Good air, Carr. " Mado was sniffing at one of the ports. "A bit rarefor you, but I think you'll get along with it. Temperature offorty-five degrees. That's not so bad. The strangest thing is thegravity. This body isn't much more than two thousand miles indiameter, yet its gravity is about the same as on Venus--seven eighthsof that of Terra. Must have a huge nickel-iron core. "

"Yes. It'll be a cinch for me. But you, you big lummox--it's the G-rayfor you as long as we're here. "

"Uh-huh. You get all the breaks, don't you?"

Carr laughed. He was becoming anxious to land. "What sort of areception do you suppose we'll get?" he said. 

"Not bad, from the tone of that last message. And here they come, Carr. Look--a dozen of them. A royal reception, so far. "

Suddenly they were in the midst of a flock of great birds; birds thatflapped their golden wings to rise, then soared and circled like thegulls of the terrestrial oceans. And these mechanical birds were fast. Carr and Mado watched in fascination as they strung out in V formationand led the way in the direction of the setting sun. Six, sevenhundred miles an hour the _Nomad's_ indicator showed, as they swung inbehind these ships of Europa. 

 * * * * *

They crossed a large body of water, a lake of fully five hundred milesin width. More country then, hardly populated now and with but few ofthe gleaming roadways. The sun had set, but there was scarcely anydiminution of the light for the great ball that was Jupiter reflecteda brilliance of far greater intensity than that of the full Moon on aclear Terrestrial night. A marvelous sight the gigantic bodypresented, with its alternate belts of gray-blue and red and dazzlingwhite. And it hung so low and huge in the heavens that it seemed onehad but to stretch forth a hand to touch its bright surface. 

Another mountain range loomed close and was gone. On its far sidethere stretched the desolate wastes of a desert, a barren plain thatextended in all directions to the horizon. Wind-swept, it was andmenacing beneath them. Europa was not all as they had first seen it. 

A glimmer of brightness appeared at the horizon. The fleet wasreducing speed and soon they saw that their journey was nearly over. At the far edge of the desert the bright spot resolved itself into theoutlines of a city, the city of golden domes. Cones they looked like, rather, with rounded tops and fluted walls. The mental message hadconveyed the most fitting description possible without words orpicture. 

The landing was over so quickly that they had but confused impressionsof their reception. A great square in the heart of the city, crowdedwith people. Swooping maneuvers of hundreds of the bird-like ships. Anopen space for their arrival. The platform where a committee awaitedthem. The king, or at least he seemed to be king. The sea of upturnedfaces, staring eyes. 

 * * * * *

Mado fidgeted and opened his mouth to voice a protest but Carr nudgedhim into silence. The king had risen from his seat in the circle onthe platform and was about to address them. There was no repetition ofthe telepathic means of communication. 

"Welcome, travelers from the inner planets, " said the king. He spokeCos perfectly! "Cardos, emperor of the body you call Europa, salutesyou. Our scientists have recorded your thoughts with their psycho-rayapparatus and have learned that you have a message for us, a messagewe fear is not pleasant. Am I correct?"

Carr stared at the soft-voiced monarch of this remarkable land. It wasincredible that he spoke in the universal language of the innerplanets!

"Your Highness, " he replied, "is correct. We have a message. But itamazes us that you are familiar with our language. "

"That we shall explain later. Meanwhile--the message!"

"The message, " Carr said, "is not pleasant. A golden sphere out inspace. Helpless in the clutches of a nameless monster, a vast creatureof jellylike substance but possessed of enormous destructive energy. Amental message to our vessel warning us away and bidding us to comehere; to tell you of their fate. We escaped and here we are. "

The face of Cardos paled. He reached for an egg-shaped crystal thatreposed on the table; spoke rapidly into its shimmering depths. Hiddenamplifiers carried his voice throughout the square in booming tones. It was a strange tongue he spoke, with many gutturals and sibilants. Agroan came up from the assembled multitude. 

Cardos tossed the crystal to the table with a resigned gesture, thentottered and swayed. Instant confusion reigned in the square and theemperor was assisted from the platform by two of his retainers. Theynever saw him again. 

 * * * * *

One of the counsellors, a middle-aged man with graying russet hair andlarge gray eyes set in a perfectly smooth countenance, stepped fromthe platform and grasped the two adventurers as the confusion in thesquare increased to an uproar. 

"Come, " he whispered, in excellent Cos; "I'll explain all to you inthe quiet of my own apartments. I am Detis, a scientist, and my homeis close by. "

Gently he clung to them as the larger men forced their way between themilling groups of excited Europans. No one gave them much attention. All seemed to be overcome with grief. A terrible disaster, this lossof the golden sphere must be!

They were out of the square and in one of the broad streets. Thefluted sides of the unpointed cones shone softly golden on all sides. Alike in every respect were these dwellings of the people of Europa, and strangely attractive in the light of the mother planet. 

Not a word was spoken when they reached the abode of their guide. Theyentered an elaborate hall and were whisked upward in an automaticelevator. Detis ushered them into his apartment when they alighted. Hesmiled gravely at their looks of wonder as they cast eyes on the mazeof apparatus before them. It was a laboratory rather than a livingroom in which they stood. 

Detis led them to an adjoining room where he bid them be seated. Theyexchanged wondering glances as their host paced the floor vigorouslybefore speaking further. 

"Friends, " he finally blurted, "I hope you'll excuse my emotion butthe news you brought is a terrible blow to me as to all Europa. Carli, our prince, beloved son of Cardos, was commander of the ship youreported lost. We deeply mourn his loss. "

 * * * * *

Carr and Mado waited in respectful silence while their host madeeffort to control his feelings. 

"Now, " he said, after a moment, "I can talk. You have many questionsto ask, I know. So have I. But first I must tell you that Carli's wasan expedition to your own worlds. A grave danger hangs over them andhe was sent to warn them. He has been lost. Our only space-shipcapable of making the journey also is lost. Six Martian years wererequired to build it, so I fear the warning will never reach yourpeople. Already the time draws near. "

"A grave danger?" asked Mado. "What sort of a danger?"

"War! Utter destruction! Conquest by the most warlike and ambitiouspeople in the solar system. "

"Not the people of Europa?" asked Carr. 

"Indeed not. There is another inhabited satellite of Jupiter, nextfarthest from the mother planet. Ganymede, you call it. It is fromthere that these conquerors are to set forth. "

"Many of them?" inquired Mado. 

"Two million or so. They're prepared to send an army of more than atenth of that number on the first expedition. "

"A mere handful!" Carr was contemptuous. 

"True, but they are armed with the most terrible of weapons. Yourpeople are utterly unprepared and, unless warned, will be driven fromtheir cities and left in the deserts to perish of hunger and exposure. This is a real danger. "

"Something in it, Carr, if what he says is true. We've no arms norwarriors. Haven't had for two centuries. You know it as well as I do. "

"Bah! Overnight we could have a million armed and ready to fight themoff. "

 * * * * *

Detis raised his hand. "You offend me, " he said gravely. "I have toldyou this in good faith and you reward me with disbelief and boastfultalk. Your enemies are more powerful than you think, and your ownpeople utterly defenceless against them. "

"I'm sorry, " Carr apologized, "and I'll listen to all you have to say. Surely your prince has not given his life in vain. " He was ashamedbefore this scientist of Europa. 

A tinkling feminine voice from the next room called something in theEuropan tongue. 

Detis raised his head proudly and his frown softened at the sound ofdainty footsteps. His voice was a caress as he replied. 

A vision of feminine loveliness stood framed in the doorway and thevisitors rose hastily from their seats. Carr gazed into eyes of thedeepest blue he had ever seen. Small in stature though this girl ofEuropa was--not more than five feet tall--she had the form of agoddess and the face of an angel. He was flushing to the roots of hishair. Could feel it spread. What an ass he was anyway! Anyone'd thinkhe'd never seen a woman in all his thirty-five years!

"My daughter, Ora, gentlemen, " said Detis. 

The girl's eyes had widened as she looked at the huge Martian with thefunny black box on his back. They dropped demurely when turned tothose of the handsome Terrestrial. 

"Oh, " she said, in Cos, "I didn't know you had callers. "

CHAPTER VI

_Vlor-urdin_

The time passed quickly in Pala-dar, city of the golden domes. Detisspent many hours in the laboratory with his two visitors and the fairOra was usually at his side. She was an efficient helper to her fatherand a gracious hostess to the guests. 

The amazement of the visitors grew apace as the wonders of Europanscience were revealed to them. They sat by the hour at the illuminatedscreen of the rulden, that remarkable astronomical instrument whichbrought the surfaces of distant celestial bodies within a few feet oftheir eyes, and the sounds of the streets and the jungles to theirears. It was no longer a mystery how the language of Cos had become sofamiliar to these people. 

They learned of the origin of the races that inhabited Europa andGanymede. Ages before, it was necessary for the peoples of the thenthickly populated Jupiter to cast about for new homes due to thecooling of the surface of that planet. Life was becoming unbearable. In those days there were two dominant races on the mother body, agentle and peaceful people of great scientific accomplishment and arace of savage brutes who, while very clever with their hands, were oflesser mental strength and of a quarrelsome and fighting disposition. 

Toward the last the population of both main countries was reduced tobut a few survivors, and the intelligent race had discovered a meansof traversing space and was prepared to leave the planet for the morelivable satellite--Europa. Learning of these plans, the others made atreaty of perpetual peace as a price for their passage to anothersatellite--Ganymede. The migration began and the two satellites weresettled by the separate bands of pioneers and their new lives begun. 

 * * * * *

The perpetual treaty had not been broken since, but the energies ofthe warlike descendants of those first settlers of Ganymede wereexpended in casting about for new fields to conquer. Through the agesthey cast increasingly covetous eyes on those inner planets, Mars, Terra and Venus. Not having the advantage of the Rulden, they knew ofthese bodies only what could be seen through their own crude opticalinstruments and what they had learned by word of mouth from certainrenegade Europans they were able to bribe. 

While their neighbors of the smaller satellite were engaged inpeaceful pursuits, tilling the soil and making excellent homes forthemselves, the dwellers on Ganymede were fashioning instruments ofwarfare and building a fleet of space-ships to carry them to theirintended victims. It was a religion with them; they could think ofnothing else. An unscrupulous scientist of Europa sold himself to themseveral generations previously and it was this scientist who had madethe plans for their space-fliers and had contrived the deadly weaponswith which they were armed. He likewise taught them the language ofCos and it now was spoken universally throughout Ganymede inanticipation of the glorious days of conquest. 

"You honestly believe them able to do this?" asked Carr, stillskeptical after two days of discussion. 

"I know it as a certainty, " Detis replied solemnly. "It is only duringthe past generation we have learned of the completeness and awfulnessof their preparations. Your people can not combat their sound-ray. With it they can remain outside the vision of those on the surface andset the tall buildings of your cities in harmonic vibrations that willbring them down in ruins about the ears of the populace. "

 * * * * *

"There'll be nothing left for them to take if they destroy all ourcities: nowhere for them to live. I don't get it. "

"Only a few will be destroyed completely, to terrify the rest of theinhabitants of your worlds. Others will be depopulated by means ofvibrations that will kill off the citizens without harming the citiesthemselves--vibrations which are capable of blanketing a large areaand raising the body temperature of all living things therein to apoint where death will ensue in a very few minutes. Other vibrationswill paralyze all electrical equipment on the planet and make itimpossible for your ships of the air to set out to give battle, evenwere they properly armed. "

"Looks bad, Carr, " said Mado glumly. 

"It does that. We've got to go back and carry the warning. "

"I fear it is too late, " said Detis. "Much time will be needed inwhich to develop a defense and surely it can not be done within thethree isini before they set forth--about four of your days. "

"They leave that soon?" Carr was taken aback. 

"Yes, with their one hundred and twenty vessels; forty to each of yourthree planets; seventeen hundred men to a vessel. "

Carr jumped to his feet. "By the heat devils of Mercury!" he roared, "well go to their lousy little satellite and find a way to preventit!"

 * * * * *

Ora gazed at his flushed face with unconcealed admiration. 

"You're crazy!" exploded Mado. "What can we do with the _Nomad_?"

"Her D-ray can do plenty of damage. "

"Yes, but they'd have us down before we could account for five oftheir vessels. It's no use, I tell you. "

But Carr was stubborn. "We'll pay them a call anyway. I'll bet we candope out some way of putting it over on them. Are you game?"

"Of course I'm game. I'll go anywhere you will. But it's a fool ideajust the same. "

"Maybe so. Maybe not. Anyway--let's go. "

"Just a moment, gentlemen, " Detis interposed. "How about me?"

Carr stared at him and saw that his eyes shone with excitement. "Why, I believe you'd like to go with us!" he exclaimed admiringly. 

"I would, indeed. "

"Come on then. We're off. " He was impatient to be gone. 

Detis busied himself with a small apparatus that folded into a compactcase, explaining that it was one that might prove useful. Ora left theroom but quickly returned. She too carried a small case, and she haddonned a snug fitting leather garment that covered her from neck toknees. 

"What's this?" demanded Carr. "Surely Miss Ora does not intend to comewith us?"

"She never leaves my side, " said Detis proudly. 

"Nothing doing!" Carr stated emphatically. "There'll be plenty ofdanger on this trip. Well have no woman along--least of all yourcharming daughter. "

 * * * * *

Mado was leaving everything to his friend, but he grinned inanticipation when he saw the look of anger on the girl's face. 

She stamped her little foot and faced Carr valiantly. "See here, Mr. Carr Parker!" she stormed. "I'm no weakling. I'm the daughter of myfather and where he goes I go. You'll take me or I'll never speak toyou again. "

Carr flushed. He was accustomed to his own way in most things andentirely unused to the ways of the gentler sex. He could have shakenthe little vixen! But now she was standing before him and there wassomething in those great blue eyes besides anger; something that sethis heart pounding madly. 

"All right!" he agreed desperately, "have your own way. "

He turned on his heel and strode to the door. Giving in to this slipof a girl! What a fool he was! But it would be great at that to haveher along in the _Nomad_. 

They found the public square deserted, the gilded dwellings hung withsomber colors in mourning for Carli. Ora and Detis were very quiet andpreoccupied when they entered the _Nomad_. The five isini oflamentation for the young prince had not yet passed. 

The two Europans were delighted with the appointments and mechanismsof the little vessel from Mars. They investigated every nook andcranny of its interior during the journey and were voluble in theirpraise of its inventor and builder. Neither had ever set foot in aspace-flier and each was seized with a longing to explore space withthese two strangers from the inner planets. They would make a coupleof good vagabonds along with Mado and himself, Carr thought as theyexpressed their feelings. But there was more serious business at hand. They were nearing Ganymede. 

"Where'll we land, Detis?" Mado called from the control cabin. 

"Vlor-urdin. That is their chief city. I'll guide you to thelocation. "

 * * * * *

They took up their places at the ports and scanned the surface of thesatellite as Mado dropped the ship into its atmosphere. A fardifferent scene was presented than on Europa. The land was seamed andscarred, the colors of the foliage somber. Grays and brownspredominated and the jungles seemed impenetrable. A river swung intoview and its waters were black as the deepest night, its flowsluggish. A rank mist hung over the surface. 

"The river of Charis!" exclaimed Detis. "Follow it, Mado. No, theother direction. There! It leads directly to Vlor-urdin. "

By good chance they had entered the atmosphere at a point not far fromtheir destination. In less than an hour by the _Nomad's_ chronometerthe towers of Vlor-urdin were sighted. 

It was a larger city than Pala-dar and of vastly different appearance. A hollow square of squat buildings enclosed the vast workshops andstorage space of the fleet of war vessels. Their huge spherical bulksrose from their cradles in tier after tier that stretched as far asthe eye could reach when the _Nomad_ had dropped to a level butslightly above the tips of the highest spires. The spires wereeverywhere, decorative towers at the corners of the squat buildings. Everything was black, the vessels of the fleet, the squat buildingsand the spires of Vlor-urdin. Death was in the air. Rank vapor driftedin through the opened ports. There was silence in the city below themand silence in the _Nomad_. 

Ora shuddered and drew closer to him. Carr was aware of her nearnessand a lump rose in his throat. A horrible fear assailed him. Fear forthe safety of the dainty Europan at his side. He found her hand;covered it protectingly with his own. 

CHAPTER VII

_Rapaju_

Detis was setting up and adjusting the complicated mechanisms of hislittle black case. A dozen vacuum tubes lighted, and a murmur ofthrobbing energy came from a helix of shining metallic ribbon thattopped the whole. Flexible cables led to a cap-like contrivance whichDetis placed on his head. He frowned in concentration. 

"The psycho-ray apparatus. " Ora explained. "He's sending a message tothe city. "

Evidently the influence of the ray was directive. They had no inklingof the thoughts transmitted from the alert brain of the scientist but, from the look of satisfaction on his face, they could see that he wasobtaining the desired contact. 

"Rapaju, " he exclaimed, switching off the power of his instrument, "commander of the fleet of the Llotta. I have advised him of ourarrival. Told him that a Martian and a Terrestrial wish to treat withhim concerning the proposed invasion of their planets. His answeringthought first was of fiercest rage, then conciliatory in nature. He'llreceive you and listen to your arguments, though he promises nothing. Is that satisfactory?"

"Yes. " Carr and Mado were agreed. At least it would give them a chanceto look over the ground and to make plans, should any occur to them. 

The _Nomad_ circled over the heart of the city and soon Mado saw asuitable landing space. They settled gracefully in an open area closeby the building indicated by Detis as that of the administrationofficials of the city. 

 * * * * *

A group of squat, sullen Llotta awaited them and, without speaking aword either of hatred or welcome, led them into the forbiddingentrance of the building. Close-set, beady eyes; unbelievably flatfeatures of chalky whiteness; chunky bowed legs, bare and hairy; longarms with huge dangling paws--these were the outstandingcharacteristics of the Llotta. Mado stared straight before him, refusing to display any great interest in the loathsome creatures, butCarr was frankly curious and as frankly disapproving. 

Rapaju leered maliciously when the four voyagers stood before him. Helooked the incarnation of all that was evil and vile, a monster amongmonsters. Sensing him to be the more aggressive of the two visitorsfrom doomed planets, he addressed his remarks to Carr. 

"You come to plead with Rapaju, " he sneered, his Cos tinged with anoutlandish accent, "to beg for the worthless lives of yourcompatriots; for the wealth of your cities?"

"We come to reason with you, " replied Carr haughtily, "if you arecapable of reasoning. What is this incredible thing you are planning?"

Mado gasped at the effrontery of his friend. But Carr was oblivious ofthe warning looks cast in his direction. 

"Enough of that!" snapped Rapaju. "I'll do the talking--you thereasoning. I've a proposition to make to you, and if you know what'sbest, you'll agree. Otherwise you'll be first of the Terrestrials todie. Is that clear?"

"Clear enough, all right, " growled Carr. "What do you mean--aproposition?"

"Ha! I thought you'd listen. My offer is the lives of you and yourcompanion in exchange for your assistance in guiding my fleet to thecapital cities of your countries. Not that our plans will be changedif you refuse, but that much time will be saved in this manner andquick victory made certain without undue sacrifice of valuableproperty. "

"You--you--!" Carr stammered in anger. But there was no use in raisinga rumpus--now. They'd only kill him. Something might be accomplishedif he pretended to accede. "Go on with your story, " he finishedlamely. 

"In addition to sparing your lives I'll place you both in highposition after we seize your respective planets. Make you chiefofficers in the prison lands we intend to establish for yourcountrymen. What do you say?"

"Will you give us time to talk it over and think about it?"

"Until the hour of departure, if you wish. "

 * * * * *

Carr bowed, avoiding Mado's questioning eyes. He looked at Ora whereshe stood at the side of Detis. She flashed him a guarded smile. Heknew that she understood. 

Rapaju relaxed. He was confident he could bribe these puerileforeigners to help him in the great venture. And sadly he needed suchhelp. The Llotta were not navigators. Their knowledge of the heavenswas sadly incomplete. They had no maps of the surfaces of the planetsto be visited. Their simultaneous blows would be far more effectiveand the campaign much shorter if they could choose the most vitalcenters for the initial attacks. 

"Now, " he said, "that we understand one another, let us talk furtherof the plans. Then you will be able to consider carefully beforemaking your decision. "

Rapaju could be diplomatic when he wished. Carr longed to sink hisfingers in the hairy throat. But he smiled hypocritically and found anopportunity to wink meaningly at Mado. This was going to be good! Andwho knew?--perhaps they might find some way to outwit these madsavages. To think of them in control of the inner planets wasrevolting. 

They retired to a small room with Rapaju and four of his lieutenants, Detis and Ora accompanying them. Ora sat close to Carr at the circulartable in Rapaju's council. Carr thought grimly of the board meetingsin far away New York. 

Rapaju talked. He told of the armament of his vessels, painting vividpictures of the destruction to be wrought in the cities of Terra, ofMars and Venus. His great hairy paws clutched at imaginary riches whenhe spoke glowingly of the plundering to follow. He spoke of the womenof the inner planets and Carr half rose from his seat when he observedthe lecherous glitter in his beady eyes. Ora! Great God, was she safehere? He stole a glance at the girl and a recurrence of the awful fearsurged through him. In her leather garment, close fitting and severe, she looked like a boy. Perhaps they would not know. Besides, there wasthe perpetual treaty with Europa. It always had been observed, Detissaid. 

 * * * * *

As Rapaju expanded upon the glories to come he told perforce of manyof the details of the plans. One thing stood out in Carr's mind: thevessels of the Llotta were not equal to the _Nomad_ in many respects. They must carry their entire supply of fuel from the starting pointand this was calculated as but a small percentage in excess of thatrequired to carry them to their destinations. Their speed was not asgreat as the _Nomad's_ by at least a third. If the _Nomad_ led thefleet from Ganymede they might be able to get them off their course;cause them to get them off their course; cause them to run out of fuelout in the vacuum and absolute zero of space. He kicked Mado under thetable and arose to ask a few leading questions. 

Ora was whispering to her father and he nodded his head as if incomplete agreement with what she was saying. These two were notdeceived by his apparent traitorous talk, but Mado was aghast. Carrwondered if Rapaju believed him as did his friend. 

"We'll do it, Rapaju, " he stated finally. "In our ship, the _Nomad_, we'll guide you across the trackless wastes of the heavens. We'll takeyou to our capital cities; point out to you the richest of theindustrial centers. We have no love for our own worlds. Mado and Ideserted them for a life of vagabondage amongst the stars. We ask noreward other than that we be permitted to leave once more on ourtravels, to roam space as we choose. "

Mado attempted to voice an objection but Carr's hand was heavy on hisshoulder. "Shut up, you fool!" he hissed in his ear. "Can't you trustme?"

 * * * * *

Rapaju's eyes seemed to draw closer together as he returned Carr'sunflinching stare. He walked around the table and stood at the side ofthe tall Terrestrial. Suddenly he grasped Ora's jacket, tore it openat the throat. He ran his hairy fingers over the bare shoulder of theshrinking girl and gurgled his delight at the velvet smoothness of herskin. 

With a roar like a wild animal Carr was upon him, bearing him to thefloor. His fingers were in that hairy throat, where they had itched totwine. 

"Dirty, filthy beast!" he was snarling. "Lay your foul hands on Ora, will you? Say your prayers, if you know any, you swine!"

Then his muscles went limp and he was jerked to his feet by a terribleforce, a force that sent him reeling and gasping against the wall. Oneof Rapaju's lieutenants stood before him with a tiny weapon in hishand, the weapon which had released the paralyzing gas he breathed. Hewas choking; suffocating. A black mist rose before him. He felt hisknees give way. Dimly, as in a dream, he saw that Ora was in Detis'arms. Rapaju was on his feet, fingering his neck and laughinghorribly. 

"The treaty, Rapaju!" Detis was shouting. 

Ora was sobbing. Mado was in the hands of two of the vile Llotta, struggling wildly to free himself. The Martian's eyes accused him. Heshut his own and groaned. Opened them again. But it was no use. Everything in the room was whirling now, crazily. He fought to regainhis senses, crawled weakly toward the squat figure of Rapaju where itswayed and twisted and spun around. Then all was darkness. The gas hadtaken its toll. 

CHAPTER VIII

_The Expedition_

Carr awakened to a sense of wordless disgust. Fool that he was tospill the beans as he had! All set to put one over on the leader ofthe Llotta, then to come a cropper like this! He knew he had beenspared for a purpose. The gas was not intended to kill, only to renderhim helpless for a time. He opened his eyes to the light of a familiarroom. He had awakened before in this bed. It was his own cabin onboard the _Nomad_. What had happened? Had he dreamed it all. Europa, Ora, Rapaju--all of it? He sat up and felt of his aching head. 

"Oh, are you awake?" a soft voice greeted him. 

"Ora!" he exclaimed. It was indeed she, beautiful as ever. 

"Sh-h, " she warned, placing the tip of a finger to his lips. "They'llhear us. "

"Who?" he whispered. 

"Rapaju--his two guards. They're in the control cabin with father andMado. "

"What? They've taken the _Nomad_?"

"Yes. We're under way. They've forced Mado to guide them but do nottrust him. Rapaju spared you as he believes you more capable. He'llhold you to your word. "

"Lord! But what are you doing here?"

Ora dropped her eyes. "He--Rapaju--" she said, "inferred from youraction in assaulting him that you were very fond of me. He holds me asa hostage for your good behavior. Father volunteered to come along. Hepersuaded Rapaju to allow it. Swore allegiance to his cause. Of coursehe wouldn't leave me. "

 * * * * *

Carr gazed at her in admiration of her courage. She had been nursinghim, too! What a girl she was!

"Ora, " he said huskily, "Rapaju was right. I am fond of you. More thanfond: I love you. I never knew I could feel this way. "

"Oh Carr, you mustn't!" She drew back as he scrambled to his feet. "They'll find us. We must not show that we care. Rapaju is a beast. Hewants me for himself and is delaying the time only until you havebrought the fleet safely to the inner planets and to their greatcities. He--"

"The skunk! Wants you himself, does he? Why, why didn't I kill him?But Ora, you said--you do care--"

"Ha! I thought so!" Rapaju stood in the doorway, grinning mockingly atthe pair. "The impetuous Terrestrial is up and about. Back at his oldgame!"

"Please, please, for my sake, Carr!" Ora pressed him back as hetensed his muscles for a spring. 

"Sorry I was so slow, " Carr grated, over her shoulder. "Another fiveseconds, Rapaju, and I'd have had your windpipe out by the roots. "

Rapaju scowled darkly and fingered his throat. "But, my dear Carr, youwere too slow, " he said, "and I live--and shall live--while you shalldie. Meanwhile you'll carry out your agreement. Come, Ora. "

The girl hesitated a moment, then with a pleading glance at Carrstepped from the room. 

"All right now, Parker, " snapped Rapaju. "Into your clothes and intothe pilot's seat. You'll stay there, too, till the journey's over. Getbusy!"

One of his guards had appeared in the doorway. Carr knew thatresistance was useless. Besides, seated at those controls, he mightthink of something. Rapaju'd never get Ora if he could help it!

 * * * * *

Mado's shoulders drooped and his face was haggard and drawn, but hesummoned a smile when he saw Carr. 

"Hello, Carr, " he said. "You all right?"

"Sure. Rapaju says I've got to take the controls. "

"Very well. " Mado shrugged his broad shoulders and slipped from thepilot's seat. Two ugly Llotta guards were watching, ray-pistols inhand. "The chart is corrected, Carr, and--"

"Never mind the conversation!" Rapaju snarled. "There'll be no talkbetween you at all. Beat it to your cabin, Mado. "

The Martian glowered and made as if to retort hotly. 

"But Rapaju, " Detis interposed, speaking from his position at one ofthe ports, "they'll have to consult regarding the course of thevessel. Mado is more familiar than Carr with the navigation of space. "

"Shut up!" roared Rapaju. "I know what I am doing. And, what's more, you'll not converse with them, either! I'm running this expedition, and I'm not taking any chances. "

Detis subsided and followed Mado through the passage to the sleepingcabins. 

 * * * * *

The ensuing silence was ominous. Carr could feel the eyes of theLlotta upon him as he examined the adjustments of the controls andpeeped through the telescope. A glance at the velocity indicatorshowed him they were traveling at a rate of eight hundred miles asecond. He studied the chart and soon made out their position. Jupiterwas a hundred million miles behind them and they were heading almostdue sunward. The automatic control mechanism was not functioning. Evidently Mado had kept this a secret--and for a purpose. He wished hecould talk with his friend. They'd plan something. 

"Like your job?" Rapaju was gloating over this Terrestrial who haddared to lay hands upon him. 

"Yes, but not the company. " Carr was disdainful. 

"You'll like it less before I've finished with you. And get thisstraight. You think we're dependent on you to guide us to the innerplanets, and that we'll not harm any of you until they are reached. Don't fool yourself! I've watched Mado and I've spent much time in theexcellent library of the _Nomad_. I've learned plenty about thenavigation of space and can reach those planets as quickly anddirectly as you. But it pleases me to see you work, so work you shall. I'll check you carefully, and don't think you can deceive me. Don'ttry to depart from the true course. The sun is my check as it isyours, and I'll keep constant tab on our position. Get it?"

"A rather long speech, Rapaju. " Carr grinned into the evil face of thecommander. 

"Still defiant, eh? Suits me, Carr Parker. We'll have some nice talkshere, and then--when it pleases me--you'll suffer. You shall live tosee your home city crash in utter ruin; your people slain, starved, beaten. And, above all, there's Ora--"

"Don't defile her name in your ugly mouth, you--!"

 * * * * *

Carr bit his tongue to keep back the torrent of invectives that sprangto his lips. This would never do! He'd get himself bumped off beforethey were well started. And while there was life there was hope. He'dstick to his guns and think; think and plan. If only he could have afew words with Mado. They must get out of this mess. There must be away! There must!

Rapaju was laughing in triumph. Thought he had cowed him, did he?Boastful savage! If he could navigate the _Nomad_ himself, why didn'the? Liar! He and Mado were godsends to him, and he knew it! His speechat the council table had been the real truth. 

Foreign thoughts entered his mind. Detis, good old Detis, was usinghis thought apparatus in his own cabin! He paid no attention to thewords of Rapaju when he left the control room. Detis was on the job!Between them they'd outwit this devil of Ganymede. 

"Keep your courage, " came the message. "I've read the thoughts of Madoand he bids you examine the chart carefully. He's made some notationsin the ancient language of Mars. The automatic control of the _Nomad_can be used when necessary. He has not advised Rapaju of itsexistence. "

Carr was encouraged and he concentrated on a suitable reply. But, though he did not consciously will it, his thoughts were of Ora. 

Instantly there came the reassurance of her father. "Ora is not inimmediate danger. Rapaju is saving her for his revenge on you. And I'mwatching her constantly. A ray-pistol is concealed in my clothing, itscharge ready for the foul creature in case he should lay hands on her. But you must plan an escape, and salvation for your worlds. Examinethe chart at once. "

 * * * * *

He looked from the corner of his eye and saw that one of the Llottaguards was watching intently. He peered into the eye-piece of thetelescope; made an inconsequential change in one of the adjustments. The guard stirred but did not arise. He looked at the chart with newinterest, scanned its markings carefully. What had Mado marked for hisattention? There were hundreds of notations, some in Cos and a few inthe ancient Martian, all in Mado's painstaking chirography. 

Ah, there it was! A tiny spot almost on their course, with Mado'sminute notation. Sargasso Sea! What did it mean? Did Mado intend tolead the fleet into the embrace of that dreadful monster they had sofortunately escaped? An excellent idea to save the inner planets. Butsuicide for them! He'd do it though, if it weren't for Ora. She was sosweet and innocent. She must not die; must not suffer. Another waymust be found. He groaned aloud as he realized that her predicamentwas the result of his own bullheadedness. If only he hadn't insistedon the trip to Ganymede. But then there was the problem of preservingthe civilization of the inner planets. It had to be met. 

There was a commotion behind him; a feminine shriek from the aftercabins; loud shoutings from the beast called Rapaju. Carr's heartskipped a beat. He was paralyzed with fear. But only for an instant. With a bellow of rage he whirled around and started for the door, charging the two guards with head down and arms flailing. 

CHAPTER IX

_Nemesis_

The Llotta did not use their ray-pistols. They were too busyattempting to elude the mad rushes of the powerful Terrestrial. Besides, there were good reasons they should not kill him--yet. Carrdrove one of them halfway down the passageway with a well-plantedpunch. The other was on his back, hairy legs twined around his waist, an arm under his chin, drawing his head back with a steady andterrible pressure. He whirled around, trying to shake off his beastlyantagonist. 

But these powerful legs and arms held fast. He tore at the hairyankles where they crossed in the pit of his stomach; wrenched themfree. Still the creature clung to him, twisting his head until itseemed his neck must break. He found a waving foot with his righthand; wrenched it mightily. There was a sharp snap and the footdangled limp in his fingers. He had broken the ankle. With a howl ofpain his assailant let go and dropped to the floor to crawl away likea whipped cur. 

In a flash Carr saw that the brute was reaching for his ray-pistolwhere it had dropped during the encounter. He kicked it from the reachof that hairy paw and sprang after it. With one of those littleweapons in his hands the odds would change! His fingers closed on itsgrip just as Ora rushed into the room, closely followed by Rapaju, whose distorted features were terrible to behold. The cabin was fullof them now; the guard he had first knocked down; the lust-crazedcommander--the one with the broken ankle. All but Detis and Mado. Carrfaced them alone. 

So close was Rapaju to the girl that he dared not use the pistol, andnow the uninjured guard was circling him, trying to get in a positionwhere he could use his ray-pistol without endangering his commander. Carr fumbled for the release of the weapon he held in his hand; foundit. The guard threw himself to the floor when he saw it raised;shouted a warning. But it was too late. The deadly ray had sped on itsmission of death; struck him full in the middle. The twisted body laystill a moment and then collapsed like a punctured balloon, leavinghis scant clothing in a limp heap--empty. A worthy miniature of theD-ray, this little weapon!

 * * * * *

He turned to face Rapaju and saw that he was shielding himself withOra's body. She had fainted and now hung drooping in the arms of thebeast. Where was Mado? Detis? Good God--he'd killed them! Carr thoughtof that little spot on the chart. Must be very close now. They'd passso near there'd be no escape. But he could not reach the controlswithout taking his eyes from Rapaju. That would have to wait. 

Rapaju was backing toward the door, still holding the limp figure ofthe girl before him. The injured guard lay moaning on the floor. 

"Drop her, you devil!" Carr shouted desperately as he saw that Rapajusoon would reach the passageway. 

Then suddenly he reached for the controls and pushed the energy leverto full speed forward. He braced himself for the shock of accelerationand saw Rapaju and Ora thrown backward into the passageway, the girl'sbody cushioned by that of her captor as they were flung violently tothe floor. Madly he rushed to the narrow entrance and tore at thehairy arms that encircled the slender waist of the girl. He jerked thesnarling commander of the Llotta expedition to his feet and slammedhim against the metal wall. 

"Now, you damn pig, " he grunted, "I'll finish the job. Dirty scum of arotten world!"

He dragged his victim into the control cabin and threw him to thefloor. But Rapaju was like an eel. He wriggled from under him andsnatched from the heap of clothing the ray-pistol of the disintegratedguard. With a yelp of triumph he rose to his knees and leveled theweapon. 

A well placed kick sent it spinning and Carr was upon him. He snappedback the head with a terrible punch; then lifted the dazed creature tohis feet and stepped back. 

"Stand up and take it like a man!" he roared. 

 * * * * *

Rapaju shook his head to clear it and rushed in with a bellow of rage. Just what Carr wanted! Starting almost from the floor, his right cameup to meet the vicious jaw with a crack that told of the terrificpower behind it. Lifted from his feet and hurled half way across theroom by the impact, Rapaju lay motionless where he fell. 

Carr was at the telescope. Their speed was close to fifteen hundredmiles a second. The monstrous mass of Mado's Sargasso Sea loomed closein his vision. Off their course by a hundred miles or more. They'dmiss it all right. He had the situation in hand now on board the_Nomad_. But how about the fleet behind them? He thought fast andfuriously. Another two minutes and they'd pass the thing; theinexplicable horror which had accounted for the golden sphere of theEuropans. Could he use it? Suppose the fleet of the enemy--

The idea was full of possibilities. 

He rushed to the stern compartment, and scanned the heavens for themassed body of spheres he knew would be the fleet of the Llotta. Atthis speed they must have fallen far behind. Yes, there they were. Notso far behind at that. The battle in the control room must have been ashorter one than it had seemed. He returned quickly to the controlsand reversed the energy, to give the fleet a chance to catch up tohim. 

Closer came that mass of whitish jelly. And now it was much largerthan before. The terrible creature, for living matter it was, beyonddoubt, was growing with the rapidity of a rising flood. Greattentacles of its horrid translucent substance reached in alldirections for possible victims. He sickened at the sight. But what afate for the fleet of the Llotta! If only he could maneuver them intoits influence. 

 * * * * *

He changed his course slightly and headed directly for the monster, again increasing speed. Perhaps--if he calculated the forcescorrectly--he could dive through it again with the D-ray to clear apath. But no. It was a miracle they had escaped before, and now thevicious thing was more than double its previous size. Once more healtered his course. He'd cross in front of the thing; skim it as closeas he dared and shoot from its influence on the far side. The greatermass of the enemy vessels and their lack of a quick-acting repulsiveforce would prove their undoing. 

Full speed ahead. A rapid mental calculation--an educated guess, rather--and he set the automatic control. Turning around to start forthe stern compartment, he saw that Ora had recovered from her swoonand now stood swaying weakly in the passageway. 

"Ora!" he exclaimed delightedly. He rushed to her side and supportedher in a tender embrace. 

"Rapaju?" she questioned with horror in her eyes. 

"Won't bother you for a while, dear. But your father--Mado?"

"He gassed them. They'll recover. " The brave girl had regained hercomposure. 

"Good! But, come! Time's short. " He half carried her to the rear, berating himself the while for his inability to pay her closerattention. With arms still around her he placed her at one of thestern ports. 

"What is it, Carr?" She sensed his excitement. 

"The fleet--see! We'll destroy them. "

The spherical vessels were close behind, huddled together in massformation and following the _Nomad_ blindly. 

"How, Carr?"

"Lead them into it. Wait tall you see! There's a--"

 * * * * *

The _Nomad_ lurched, and changed direction. Cold fear clutched at histhroat. That devil of a guard! Why hadn't he killed him? He dashedthrough the passage, Ora at his heels. 

Sure enough, the crippled guard had dragged himself to the controls;was manipulating the energy director as he had seen Mado do. They wereheading directly for the terrible monster of the heavens!

No need now to peer through the telescope. The thing was visible tothe naked eye. No power could save them! Carr hurled himself at theguard and tore at the hairy paw which gripped the lever. The throbbingof strange energies filled the air of the room, and Carr's brainpulsed with the maddening rhythm. The red discharge appeared at theprojections of the control panels. He forgot the fleet of the Llotta, forgot the menace to his own world. Only Ora mattered now, and he hadnot the power to save her!

As in a daze he knew he was wrenching mightily at the body of thepowerful minion of Rapaju. His fingers encountered heated metal--oneof the ray-pistols. He felt the intense vibration of the weapon as itscharge was released. But he still lived. The beast who held it hadmissed! Dimly he was conscious of the screams of Ora; of the yieldingof the creature who fought him. An animal cry registered on hisconsciousness and he shook the suddenly limp Llotta from him. He knewsomehow that his last enemy was gone. 

A quick glance showed him that Ora was still on her feet, bracedagainst the wall. The red veil was before his eyes. He grasped thecontrols, and fought desperately to keep his strength and senses. Astreamer of horrid whiteness swung across his vision; slitheredclammily over the glass of one of the forward ports. They were intothe thing! It was the end! He groaned aloud as he fumbled with themechanisms and strove to formulate a plan of escape. 

 * * * * *

The fleet, he knew, was just behind. An enormous mass. The repulsiveenergy astern would be terrific. He turned it full on. The whitenessobscured his vision. Then it was gone once more. A single streamerwaved before him and encompassed them. The movement of these membersmust be inconceivably rapid, else they'd be invisible at the speed the_Nomad_ was traveling. Full speed ahead. The repulsion full on in thedirection of the center of the mass as well as astern. The frameworkof the _Nomad_ creaked protestingly from the terrific forces that toreat her vitals. 

Then suddenly they were released. The _Nomad_ was shooting off intospace. The resultant of those combined forces had done the trick. Onlythe edge of that devil-fish of space, had they touched. Free--theywere free of the monster! The red veil lifted. He rushed to Ora'sside. She was kneeling at one of the floor ports, breathing heavilybut unharmed. 

Below them they saw the swiftly receding mass: the fleet of the Llottadiving headlong, drawn inexorably into the rapacious embrace of thevile creature of the heavens. An instant the awful whiteness of thething closed in greedily about the many spheres of the fleet;swallowed them from sight and contorted madly and with seeming gleeover the triumph. Then, in a burst of blinding incandescence, it wasgone. The monster, the fleet--everything--blasted into nothingness. The fuel storage compartments of the vessels of Ganymede had exploded!The heavens were rid of the inexplicable growing menace; the innerplanets were saved from a terrible invasion. And the _Nomad_ was safe. Ora, Detis, Mado--all were safe!

At his side Ora was trembling. Gently he raised her to her feet, andtook her into his arms. 

CHAPTER X

_Vagabonds All_

Together they cared for Detis and Mado; made them comfortable in theirbunks until the time when the effects of the gas would wear off. Lucky it was that Rapaju had used the gas pistol rather than the ray. Perhaps it had been a mistake. Or perhaps he had needed the scientificknowledge of Detis, the familiarity with the inner planets that wasMado's. At any rate, they had no delusions regarding his designs onOra or his hatred of Carr. By his own passions had the commander ofthe fleet been led to the error that cost him his life and madepossible the destruction of his fleet. 

Carr was torn by conflicting emotions. The delectable little Europanwas most disturbing. He'd never had much use for the other sex--onEarth. Too dominating, most of them. And always thrown at his head bydesigning parents for his money. But Ora was different! Her verynearness set his pulses racing. And he knew that she cared for him ashe did for her. Those moments in the control cabin after theexplosion! But something had come over him since he cut loose from theold life. Wanderlust--that was it. He'd never go back. Neither wouldhe be content to settle down to a domestic life in Pala-dar. Wanted tobe up and going somewhere. 

"Oh, Carr, Carr!" Ora's voice called to him. "Mado is awake. He wantsyou. "

Good old Mado! Why couldn't they just continue on their way as theyhad started out? Roaming the universe in search of other adventures!But the silvery tinkle of Ora's laughter reached his ears. She wasirresistible! He forgot his doubts as he hurried to his friend'scabin. 

 * * * * *

Mado was staring at the Europan maiden with a ludicrous expression ofastonishment--gawping, Carr called it. And Ora was laughing at him. 

"Your friend, " she gurgled, "doesn't believe he's alive, or that I am, or you. Tell him we are. "

Carr grinned. Mado did look funny at that. "Hello, old sock, " he said, "had a bad dream?"

"Did I? Oh boy!" Mado rocked to and fro, his head in his hands. Thenhe displayed sudden intense interest. "Rapaju?" he asked. "Hisguards--the fleet--what's happened?"

"Ah ha! Now you know you're alive!" Carr laughed. "But the others aredead and gone. The fleet's gone to smash--and how!"

"But Carr. How did you do it? Tell me!"

Mado threw off his covers and clapped his friend on the back, aresounding thump that brought a gasp from Ora. 

"Your Sargasso Sea did it. And it's a thing of the past, too. Waittill I tell you about it!"

 * * * * *

Ora tripped from the room as Carr sat on the edge of the bunk to spinhis yarn. 

"But man alive!" Mado exclaimed when the story was finished. "Don'tyou know you've done a miraculous thing? I'd never have had the nerve. That damn creature out there had more than four times its formerattracting energy. That's what made it impossible for the fleet to getaway. And you--you lucky devil--you just doped it out right. The fleetof the Llotta gave you a tremendous push from astern when you used therepulsive energy. If they hadn't been there with their enormous massto react against we'd all have been mincemeat now along with theLlotta. You Terrestrials sure can think fast! Me, now--Lord, if it hadbeen me, I'd have thought of it after my spirit had departed to itsreward--or punishment. Glory be! It's the greatest thing I ever heardof. "

"Rats! You'd have done the same as I did. Probably would have missedit a mile instead of nearly getting caught as I did. A good thing thefleet's gone, though. Mars and Terra--Venus, too--they'll never knowhow close it was for them. Wouldn't have sense enough to appreciateit, anyway. "

"They would if they ever got a taste of what the Llotta planned. Butwhat's wrong with you Carr? You act sore. Want to go home?"

"Me? Don't be like that. No--I'd like to carry on as we planned. There's Saturn, Uranus and Neptune yet; Planet 9; a flock ofsatellites and asteroids. Oh, dammit!"

Mado looked his amazement. "Well, what's to prevent it?" he demanded. "The _Nomad's_ still here, and so are we. I'm just as anxious to keepgoing as you are. Why not?"

But Carr did not reply. Why not, indeed? He strode from the cabin andinto the control room. The _Nomad_ was drifting in space, subject onlyto natural forces that swung it in a vast orbit around the sun. Hestarted the generators and drove the vessel from her temporary orbitwith rapid acceleration. Out--out into the jeweled blackness of theheavens. There was Jupiter out there, a bright orb that came suddenlyvery near when he centered it on the cross-hairs of the telescope. 

The excited voices of Ora and Detis came to his ears. The boomingspeech of Mado. Why couldn't he be sensible and companionable as theywere? But a perverse demon kept him at the controls. They'd think hima grouch. Well, maybe he was! But the vastness of the universebeckoned. New worlds to explore; mysteries to be solved; a life ofcountless new experiences! Anyone'd think he was the owner of the_Nomad_, the way he planned for the future. 

 * * * * *

They were in the control cabin now--Mado and Detis and Ora. A momenthe hesitated, eyes glued to the telescope. Then, with a petulantgesture, he reached for the automatic control; locked it. Shouldn't bethis way. They'd think him an awful cad. And they'd be right! Hewhirled to face them. 

Detis was smiling. Mado gazed owlishly solemn. Ora clung to the arm ofher father, and her long lashes hid the blue eyes that had played suchhavoc with the emotions of the Terrestrial. 

"Carr, " said Detis, gently, "we must thank you. You saved our lives, you know. "

"Aw, forget it. Saved my own, too, didn't I? By a lucky break. "

"It wasn't luck, Carr. " Detis was gripping his hand now. "It was sheergrit and brains. You had them both. If you hadn't used them we'd allbe corpses--or disintegrated--excepting Ora, perhaps. And you know thefate that awaited her. Instead, we are alive and well. The fleet isgone. Rapaju's body and that of his guard drift nameless in spacewhere you disposed of them through the air-lock of the _Nomad_. Theinner planets need fear no future invasion, for the resources ofGanymede have been expended in the one huge enterprise that hasfailed. All through your quick wit and bravery. No, it wasn't luck. "

"Nonsense, Detis. " Carr returned the pressure of the scientist's hand, smiling sheepishly. He pushed him away after a moment. He didn't wanttheir gratitude or praise. Didn't know what he wanted. Ora stillavoided meeting his gaze. "Nonsense, " he repeated. "And now, pleaseleave me. You, Detis. Mado, too. I'd like to be alone for awhile--with Ora. Mind?"

Mado's owlish look broadened to a knowing grin as he backed into thepassageway. Detis collided with the huge Martian in his eagerness tobe out of the room. They were alone and Carr was on his feet. Nothingmattered now--excepting Ora. Suddenly she was in his arms, thefragrance of her hair in his nostrils. 

 * * * * *

Star gazing, the two of them. It was ridiculous! But the wonders ofthe universe held a new beauty now for Carr. The distant suns hadtaken on added brilliance. Still they beckoned. 

"Carr, " the girl whispered, after a time, "where are we going?"

"To Europa. Your home. "

"To--to stay?"

"No. " Carr was suddenly confident; determined. "We'll stop there tobreak the news. Then we'll be wedded, you and I, according to thecustom of your people. Our honeymoon--years of it--will be spent inthe _Nomad_, roving the universe. Mado'll agree, I know. Wanderers ofthe heavens we'll be, Ora. But we'll have each other; and whenwe've--you've--had enough of it, I'll be ready to settle down. Anywhere you say. Are you game?"

"Oh, Carr! How did you guess? It's just as we'd planned. Father andMado and I. Didn't think I'd go, did you, you stupid old dear?"

"Why--why Ora. " Carr was stammering now. He'd thought he was beingmasterful--making the plans himself. But she'd beat him to it, theadorable little minx! "I was a bit afraid, " he admitted; "and I stillcan't believe that it's actually true. You're sure you want to?"

"Positive. Why Carr, I've always been a vagabond at heart. And nowthat I've found you we'll just be vagabonds together. Father and Madowill leave us very much to each other. Their scientific leanings, youknow. And--oh--it'll just be wonderful!"

"It's you that'll make it wonderful, sweetheart. "

Carr drew her close. The stars shone still more brightly and beckonedanew. Vagabonds, all of them! Like the gypsies of old, but with vastlymore territory to roam. The humdrum routine of his old life seemedvery far behind. He wondered what Courtney Davis would say if he couldsee him now. Wordless happiness had come to him, and he let histhoughts wander out into the limitless expanse of the heavens. Stargazing still--just he and Ora. 

Reader's Corner

[Illustration: ]

_From a Science Fiction "Fiend"_

 Dear Editor:

 I agree with you about the reprinting of old stories, because you would only force older Science Fiction readers to read the same stuff that they have read before. Any Science Fiction fiend like myself will surely have the reprinted story in his collection of magazines. 

 The size of your magazine is perfect, but your paper is not very good. As for me, I don't care about your paper because your stories are so very good that the paper doesn't matter. 

 My favorite story, and one of the best stories that I have ever read so far, is "Murder Madness. " It has a very original idea and holds your interest from the very start. 

 I am also for a more often publication of your magazine; about twice a month--Rupert Jones, New York, N. Y. 

_Valuable Suggestions_

 Dear Editor:

 The July issue of Astounding Stories is one of the best issues you have so far published. 

 Arthur J. Burks sure is a master at writing Science Fiction tales. The first installment of "Earth, the Marauder" was swell. Harl Vincent is another very good author. His novelette, "The Terror of Air-Level Six, " was a close second. "The Forgotten Planet, " by S. P. Wright, "Beyond the Heaviside Layer, " by S. P. Meek and "From an Amber Block, " by Tom Curry were all good stories. 

 The cover illustration was the best yet. I hope that the next dozen covers do not have blue backgrounds. Other colors you might have are green, red, pink, orange, yellow, black and light and dark purple. 

 When will Edmond Hamilton's first story be published in Astounding Stories? Have you received any stories by Stanton Coblentz, A. Hyatt Verrill, Ed Earl Repp, John W. Campbell, Jr. , Edward E. Chappelow and Edgar Rice Burroughs yet?

 Why not have a page devoted to the authors? You could print a picture and tell something about one author each month. I think that an illustration representing Science Fiction would look good on the contents page. 

 I hope that Wesso will soon be illustrating every story in Astounding Stories, or that you will obtain another artist equally as good (if possible). 

 Is it possible for you to use a better and thinner grade of paper? I save all my Astounding Stories and I like them to be thin so they will not take up so much room. --Jack Darrow, 4225 N. Spaulding Ave. , Chicago, Illinois. 

_Not Yet_

 Dear Editor:

 I have just received your July issue of Astounding Stories, and I must say that it is the best yet. 

 The only thing wrong with it, in my opinion, is that it is too small; the size should be at least 9x12. Also it should be a semi-monthly, or at least accompanied by a quarterly and annual. 

 The stories in the July issue are wonderful, all except Murray Leinster's serial, which does not belong in your magazine. 

 If you have any intention of putting an annual or a quarterly on the market, will you be so kind as to communicate with me as I am very much interested in your magazine. --Louis Wentzler, 1933 Woodbine St. , Brooklyn, N. Y. 

_"Ever Since"_

 Dear Editor:

 I want to tell you what I think of your new magazine. I think it's great. 

 I stopped in a drug store and saw Astounding Stories on the newsstand. I bought it and have been buying it ever since. I am fourteen years old, but I am interested in science. Why not get a story by Edgar Rice Burroughs, and some more by Ray Cummings?

 I wish success to your wonderful magazine. --Wm. McCalvy, 1244 Beech St. , St. Paul, Minn. 

_"Not One Poor Story Yet"_

 Dear Editor:

 I agree with you that reprints should absolutely be kept out of your magazine. I admit that there are many stories of unusual merit among the reprints but I favor new and fresher stories. 

 In your last issue (June) I consider "The Moon Master" as being the best story, closely followed by "Out of the Dreadful Depths. " "The Cavern World" came next, followed by "Giants of the Ray, " "Brigands of the Moon" and "Murder Madness. "

 I have not found one poor story in your magazine yet, and never expect to. 

 I, for one, favor a larger sized magazine with a five cent increase in price, or, at least, if the magazine must remain small, I would like to see a quarterly out on the third Thursday every three months. 

 I am extremely pleased to see that an interplanetary story by R. F. Starzl will appear in your next issue. Please have more of his stories if possible. --Forrest James Ackerman, 530 Staples Ave. , San Francisco, Calif. 

_Likes Present Size_

 Dear Editor:

 Best stories in the last two issues: C. D. Willard's "Out of the Dreadful Depths" (Excellent); Chas. W. Diffin's "The Moon Master" (Very Good); Sewell P. Wright's "Forgotten Planet" (Fairly Good). 

 I am a new reader, but interested in these kinds of stories. I am pleased to see that your readers criticize freely. A story that will please one reader will not interest another, perhaps, and it may not be the fault of the author's ability so much as that he doesn't like that type of story. 

 "Out of the Dreadful Depths, " by C. Willard is the best story I've read for some time. I could not see a single way it could be improved. "The Moon Master, " by Chas. Diffin was just as good but I didn't like the ending so well. I certainly hope Mr. Diffin will write more stories like it, especially using his same three leading characters. "The Forgotten Planet, " by Mr. Wright, was well written and pretty good in spite of the fact that I don't like that type of story so well. 

 "Murder Madness, " by Murray Leinster was well written and the characters interesting and real but I didn't like his subject. I hope for more and different stories from him. "Earth, the Marauder, " by Arthur J. Burks looks as though it was going to be a record winner for me--accomplish the impossible, and make a good story from a story of the future. 

 I don't like horror stories, crazy stories and stories written far into the future, as "Brigands of the Moon. " These stories make light of the vast distances of space and are too weird, droll and fail to give a single shiver down my old backbone. They are strange and inhabited by strange people. No story can give the faintest idea of the space between those mighty suns of the universe. Most of them have more imagination than scientific knowledge. "Earth, the Marauder, " an exception. 

 I would much rather hear stories of primeval days of the lost Atlantis before Earth was populated with scientific beings, when the cave man looked up at the unknown, then so near to him. At the moon, which was then so close, and uninhabited by superior beings. Tales of superstition and all mystery stories of the unknown. I like interplanetary stories, if not written too far into the future. 

 I like the present size and shape of your magazine. Best wishes for the success of your magazine. --An Interested Reader, Goffstown, N. H. 

_Likes_

 Dear Editor:

 I have just finished reading the July issue of Astounding Stories and I think every story is simply great, especially "The Terror of Air-Level Six. " That sure is a story! "The Forgotten Planet" is a corker, too!

 While reading the letters in "The Readers' Corner" I noticed that almost everyone has a hankering for Edgar Rice Burroughs' stories. Believe it or not, I'm wild about his stories myself and I'm looking forward to reading his stories in Astounding Stories. It won't make any difference if they'll be originals or reprints, so long as they're Burroughs!

 Ray Cummings is another one of my favorites and I always read his stories first. His "Brigands of the Moon" hit me in the right spot. "The Moon Master" in the June issue was also a very fine story. 

 Now about this argument about reprinted stories. I think that if, at least, one reprinted story appeared in each issue of Astounding Stories, it wouldn't hurt its reputation. Here are some reprints that hit the ceiling: "The War in the Air, " by Wells; "Tarranto, the Conqueror, " by Cummings; "The Conquest of Mars, " by Serviss. I'm sure the readers would enjoy reading them. But if you are persistent about avoiding reprints then we'll have to do without them. --Paul Nikolaieff, 4325 S. Seeley Ave. , Chicago, Illinois. 

_Wants Sequel_

 Dear Editor:

 I have read every issue of Astounding Stories though I can barely afford it. I like it very much. The best novels were, in order: 1. "The Moon Master"; 2. "Phantoms of Reality"; 3. "Spawn of the Stars"; 4. "Terror of Air-Level Six. "

 In the July issue you published a story, "Earth, the Marauder, " which promises to be even better than the "Skylark of Space" that once came out in another magazine. I like Harl Vincent, Ray Cummings, Arthur Burks, and Martian stories best. Interplanetary stories always agree with me. Burroughs is an excellent author. I like his Martian books. "The Beetle Horde" in the first two issues was very good. But why not give a sequel about the other and more terrible creatures in the earth whom the madman spoke of? Fourth dimensionals are sometimes good. You should have reprints by Burroughs, Cummings and Merritt. I am eagerly waiting for the next issue. Do not enlarge the magazine because I cannot afford it. Don't publish stories like "From an Amber Block. " They're rotten. Publish more future and interplanetary stories. --Joseph Edelman, 721 De Kalb Ave. , Brooklyn, N. Y. 

_Stands Pat_

 Dear Editor:

 I have read all the issues of A. S. Since the date of publication and think that there is no other magazine like it on the market. I would like to offer a few suggestions contrary to most of your readers (i. E. , Jack Darrow & Chas. Barret):

 1. --Keep magazine in present size and price. 

 2. --Issue it only once a month. If it was issued semi-monthly the writers would soon run out of ideas; and the readers would get sick of it if they read it so often anyway. 

 3. --Keep up the style of stories now running, i. E. , keep the science a little in the background. Do not let it monopolize the story. 

 I get other magazines that do not follow the last mentioned rule and the result is the stories are full of machines going 10, 000 miles per hour, etc. ; pink, black, purple and eleventeen other colored rays. As a result the stories are drier than the Sahara Desert. 

 The illustrations are fine (O. K. ) as they are. --Walter O'Brien, 6 Hageman Pl. , North Bergen, N. J. 

_Trial by Readers_

 Dear Editor:

 When Astounding Stories first appeared on the newsstands, a brand new Science Fiction magazine, I was prejudiced against it as a competitor to the existing magazines--one that might carry an inferior quality of Science Fiction so closely approaching the supernatural as to practically disregard science. In a few cases, as with very good writers like A. Merritt and H. P. Lovecraft, this is permissible, but, otherwise, not at all so. In the first issue, "The Stolen Mind" seemed to bear me out, but, then, there was "Tanks. " I bought the next issue--much better! And then the third showed "The Soul Master, " very well written, but not quite science, as related. Yet, "Cold Light" held me on, and "Brigands of the Moon. " There is no danger of my dropping off now!

 In the current issue, "Murder Madness" and "The Power and the Glory" stand out as mile-posts in the history of Science Fiction. The rest are not far behind, though, as a matter of fact, "Beyond the Heaviside Layer" and "Earth, the Marauder" have more discernible flaws than the rest. Just for example, a layer of organic matter would raise Cain with astronomy, due to refraction. Air is bad enough. But the writing overwhelms the error. You have certainly assembled a group of excellent authors, new and old, and I am glad to see the promise of R. F. Starzl in the next issue. His "Madness of the Dust" is one of the most naturally written interplanetary stories I have read--logical and clear, just as it would happen to anybody. 

 And now for the big question--that of reprints. You seem to have already decided the answer, and have defended your action well, but I wonder if it is well enough. By far your best argument is your last--"authors must eat"--with which I have no quarrel at all. Still, one classic serial a year, or at most two, might not prove too harmful. Following back, I reach a statement concerning "The Saturday Evening Post. " In the past it has published hundreds of the world's best stories, and never reprinted. True. But why? Because these stories are all available in book form, in libraries and book stores, in original or new editions or in the Grosset and Dunlap list of perpetually printed best sellers. It is possible to read them for years after publication. But try to find the past masterpieces of Science Fiction. With the exception of Burroughs' books, most were never printed in book form. Even books by Wells and Verne, classics of their kind are gone, totally gone, even from the shelves of libraries. Many of Verne's best stories were never translated from the French. And the other classics of which readers write, classics familiar to most of us only by name and a few lucky tastes of others, newer works by the same authors, are absolutely gone--annihilated. Their best works are beyond the reach of the reader. Only by republication, in magazine or book, can they be revived in an age when they will be remembered and preserved--an age awake to science and Science Fiction. Other magazines are doing it, one or two to the year, and it may be that you need not reprint; but the reservoir of the past is large, and a few cannot drain it. This leads to your first argument, that better stories are being written to-day. They are--better than the average of the past--but not better than the classics. It would be folly to say that because the short story is a modern development, and because Galsworthy or Walpole or Reimarch are better than the average of yesterday, to our present tastes, that the classics of the past should be scrapped. 

 The analogy, I feel, is good. The classics of general literature have their place in history. The classics of Science Fiction should have theirs. There are dozens better than the general run of present work, by A. Merritt, Homer Eon Flint, George Allan England, Austin Hall, John Taine, Garret P. Serviss, Ralph Milne Farley, Ray Cummings, and others that stood out in an age when Science Fiction was considered pure phantasy or imaginative "trash. " In the present age, they would be still better, and this time they would not be lost to the world, for there are publishers and readers who would preserve them. You may adhere to your decision, but, to my mind, and, I think to far more than 1% of other minds, reprints of classics are essential, actually vitally necessary. Try to find out what a ballot would show. Again, from the author's point of view. Up to now, Burroughs has had all the breaks as to book publication. Now Ray Cummings and others are being published. "An author must eat. " Give him a chance, by reviving his best efforts, and bringing them to public attention, so that a publisher will find them worthy of publication. Most of the masters of Science Fiction are alive--give them a chance to eat. Too, a great many of the best modern authors are modern readers: ask them if they would be willing to see one of the best stories of the past re-issued each year, stories unpublished in existing magazines for ten years or more. I certainly hope you will alter your decision. 

 And now to reverse some other decisions of readers. The size is quite all right and very handy for binding purposes, Mr. Mack to the contrary. Incidentally, the staples are so placed as to make binding simple. Also contrary to Mr. Darrow, I prefer the artist Gould, to Wesso, for interior illustrations, though Wesso is best for mechanical illustrations. Incidentally, give us the name of the artist for each story, especially when the illustrations are unsigned, as in the April issue. Wesso's best cover for you has been that for April, illustrating "Monsters of Moyen. " It shows his best style very well. 

 As to my favorite type of Science Fiction, any kind, if well written, will do. As it happens, the king of authors, A. Merritt, has a type all his own, as Mr. Bryant notes, which is unbeatable, and my favorite. However, at times, a good writer may fall down in his fundamental assumptions. I don't care where or how far he goes, so long as he starts with something that present-day science does not deny. Here is where "The Soul Master" fell down, and, even more so, "The Soul Snatcher. " Better leave souls and astrals and egos alone, except in very, very rare cases, when an author turns up who can make you believe in them as mechanical entities. 

 As a Science Fiction fan, a student of chemistry, and a hopeful author, I will probably write to "The Readers' Corner" as often as I want to blow off steam regarding science or fiction or the way in which you are running the magazine. I hope I won't be considered an utter nuisance, and will be given a trial by jury--a jury of readers. --P. Schuyler Miller, 302 So. Ten Broeck St. , Scotia, New York. 

"_Handy to Hold_"

 Dear Editor:

 I wish to say that I have the seven numbers of Astounding Stories that have been issued thus far and I have read them through ever word. It is wonderful, and there is no word of fault to be uttered concerning any of them. I think "Murder Madness" is the best story you have printed so far, but they are all good in different ways. 

 You received some letters that surprise me. How anyone can ask you to change the make-up to the blanket sheet form is more than I can see. It is so handy to hold and to read as it is now. I do hope you will not change it. 

 No, there is so much that one wants to read these days that I do not advocate issuing twice a month. One issue each month is just right. But I do wish you would increase the number of pages to at least the number in Five Novels magazine. Of course, you would want 25c. For it then, and that is all right. 

 Am glad that you refuse to give us reprints. We do not want them. 

 Astounding Stories is a gem, and I hope to read it for the remainder of my life. Keep right on with the good work. --Will S. Cushing, 21 Cottage St. , Abington, Massachusetts. 

_We Hope So, Too_!

 Dear Editor:

 Your July issue of Astounding Stories was wonderful. Your magazine is improving greatly. "Murder Madness" is a great story, and "Earth, the Marauder, " is one of the best stories I have ever read. I hope the other parts of it are just as interesting as the first part. --Mick Scotts, 115 W. 16th Ave. , Gary, Indiana. 

_Another Sequel_

 Dear Editor:

 Well, I have so much to say, or rather would like to say for your magazine. I like it in every detail but one, which is waiting a whole month for the rest of my stories. 

 I wish you would give us the third sequel of "Out of the Ocean's Depths. " Let the young scientist discover a way to perform matrimony between the girl of the ocean and the man, and then let their child live either in or out of water. There could be two more good stories or sequels of "Out of the Ocean's Depths. " I like them all. 

 I liked "Murder Madness, " too. It seems as though it is really real, and not fiction. I wish you would get the book out twice a month. --Mrs. B. R. Woods, Cotte, Arkansas. 

_From Author to Author_

 Dear Editor:

 Since Astounding Stories began you have published a goodly number of really remarkable stories, chief among which, in my estimation, are the following: "Spawn of the Stars, " by C. W. Diffin; "Brigands of the Moon, " by Ray Cummings; "Monsters of Moyen, " by Arthur J. Burks; "The Atom Smasher, " by Victor Rousseau; and "The Moon Master, " C. W. Diffin. 

 But none of these can compare with Diffin's last short story, "The Power and the Glory, " which appeared in the last (July) issue. For originality of theme, clever phraseology and excellent literary craftsmanship it stands alone--a little masterpiece. Its author should be congratulated. 

 To the best of my knowledge, Mr. Diffin is a newcomer in Science Fiction. The first story of his that I read was "Spawn of the Stars. " Keep his pen busy, Mr. Editor; he's valuable--an' I don't mean maybe!

 If I could write a story like "The Power and the Glory, " I'd certainly congratulate myself!--L. A. Eshbach, 225 Chestnut St. , Reading, Pa. 

"_Held Me Spellbound_"

 Dear Editor:

 I happened to read one of your books the other day--Astounding Stories is the one--and I was very much taken up with it. I found that it was a very interesting book, indeed. I have no fear in saying that it held me spellbound from the start till the finish. The one that I happened to buy was the issue of May, 1930, and the story that gripped me most was "Brigands of the Moon. " It was very thrilling, indeed, and I am very sorry I could not obtain the previous copies so as to start at the beginning. But, however, I am able to obtain a copy every month and am very pleased, as I would hate to miss a copy again. 

 Well, I hope this letter will reach you safely. Remember me as a contented reader of your magazine. --Geo. Young, 447 Canning St. , Nth. Carlton N. 4, Melbourne, Australia. 

_We Are Printing It_!

 Dear Editor:

 It seems that you have taken a wrong slant on my letter which you published recently. True, I did give you a long list of stories which I wanted to see, but I didn't mean that you should publish only reprints, no new stories. Far from it. Instead, I'd suggest that you give us a classic, say, every six months. This arrangement ought to be okay with everyone. That's that for reprints. 

 About the stories and the authors, they're all right. There's one thing that I like about you that I don't find in the other Science Fiction magazines. With the very first issue you started off with the authors that are wanted by everyone who reads this type of literature. You began with Cummings, Rousseau, Meek and Leinster. Hm-m, let's see. And you're keeping up the good system by having added Vincent, Starzl, Burks, Curry, Miss Lorraine, Hamilton, etc. But you don't escape entirely unscathed, for the other magazines give us stories from authors which haven't as yet written a story which appeared in your columns. Let's see; besides the stars above, let's add to the galaxy Keller (three cheers), Breuer, Smith (his story, "The Skylark of Space, " ought to have about six sequels), the late Mr. Serviss, Verrill, Poe, Wells, Verne, Flint (o-o-oh, for that "Blind Spot"), Hall, England, Hasta (one story by him is all I've read, but it only whetted my appetite), and Simmons. Oh, yes, the two Taines, the detective of Dr. Keller's and the author. But there's something missing. Hm-m--ah, A. Merritt! What a writer! How could I have forgotten him? Which reminds me of Burroughs who has been left out in the rain for quite a while. He belongs back in the fold. 

 Mr. Editor, do you remember way back when you said we should write in to you to tell you of the stories we want and that you would get them for us? Of course, you do. Stories and authors cannot be parted, so get those authors I've listed above and forget about the stories, for they'll all be good. 

 I do not kick about any particular author for the reason that if I tried to write on the same subject they picked out and are picking, my work would be pretty different from what they'd produce, and their works would be the ones that would be published. Please don't read that twice; I hope to be a contributor very soon. 

 In my opinion you should enlarge the size of the magazine, but for heaven's sake don't increase the departments. Every day that we read a paper we learn of what science is doing. And, at the end of the month we read the same thing in a magazine which should give us a story instead. The price is just right. But, even if the magazine were enlarged and the price boosted to a quarter, do you really think that we get enough material to devour? No! Then what? Get out a Quarterly! And please don't wait about that for the next ten years. 

 This is a pretty lengthy letter and I don't expect you to print it but I want you to get the views of at least one devoted reader--Isidore Mansen, 544 Myrtle Ave. , Brooklyn, N. Y. 

_Every Single One_

 Dear Editor:

 I certainly received a pleasant surprise when I glanced at the table of contents for the August issue. When one sees Victor Rousseau, R. F. Starzl, Murray Leinster, Harl Vincent, and Edmond Hamilton, one knows that the issue is bound to be a good one. I wish to congratulate you on the way you have been running Astounding Stories. If you intend to keep giving us the authors you are now, throughout your whole career, you are a law-breaker. What I mean by that is that no other magazine has kept a high grade of authors very long. The old magazines on the market have once had stories by the authors you are giving us now, but they never kept those authors long. If you keep the authors you have now you may well be assured of success. 

 "Silver Dome" undoubtedly copped the prize for this issue. It could not have been better. "The Lord of Space" was a very good story. "The Planet of Dread" was another very good story. "The Second Satellite, " by Hamilton, was excellent. For once in his life Hamilton has written a story that has not the same old plot all his other stories have! I wish to congratulate him on the best story he has ever written! "The Flying City" was the same thing all over again. The world in danger and suddenly our magnificent hero comes along, takes a hand, and presto the danger is all over. Of course, he has to meet the beautiful girl and fall in love with her, and at the end of the story marry her! Remember, history repeats itself. Have you ever heard of the world being saved by one man? No! Neither have I. The world will never be saved by one man. Therefore, all those stories are "the bunk. " "Murder Madness" was wonderful. I expect to see it in the talkies before long. It could be filmed easily enough, couldn't it! I know it certainly would make a wonderful picture. I expect to see you publish "Murder Madness" and "Brigands of the Moon" in book form. If you do, I will try my darnedest to get a copy. Also in my list of good authors up there I forgot to mention Arthur J. Burks. 

 Now I wish to broach the subject of a Quarterly to you. I think Astounding Stories should have one. Every other Science Fiction magazine has, so let us have one, too. Won't you? You can give us over twice as much as you do in the monthly and charge about 50c. A copy. Have one good book and several short stories in each issue; no serials. How about it?

 And now let's talk a little about Astounding Stories! Why not cut the paper smooth, the way you do in Five Novels Monthly? It would make the magazine look a lot better. It would also be a lot easier to find one's place when one has to lay the book down for a moment. The last reason may sound trivial, but it's really annoying to try to find one's place among those bulky pages. The paper you use now gives the magazine an inferior appearance when compared to others of its kind. It certainly would be a relief to see you use better paper. Won't you please consider the points I have brought out in my letter?--Gabriel Kirschner, Box 301, Temple, Texas. 

"_What Authors_!"

 Dear Editor:

 Astounding Stories is improving with every issue. However, you would have to go far to beat the August issue. It can be called an "all star" number. What authors! Hamilton, Rousseau, Starzl, Burks, and others, all of whom are among my favorite authors. The stories were so good that it is almost impossible to pick out the best one. However, after some thought I have finally chosen Hamilton's "The Second Satellite. " "Earth, the Marauder, " is a close second. I hope you have many more stories by Edmond Hamilton. 

 I see that the cover is the first one to be of a different color. Please have a new color each month. 

 There are a few ways in which Astounding Stories may be improved. Enough of the readers have mentioned improving the quality of the paper so that I do not have to comment on this. An editorial each month would improve the magazine greatly. 

 Here's hoping that Astounding Stories becomes a semi-monthly soon--very soon--Michael Fogaris, 157 Fourth St. , Passiac, N. J. 

_Stands Pat_

 Dear Editor:

 I have been a reader of your magazine for some time. I hope to continue reading it in the future. 

 I notice in "The Readers' Corner" that some want reprints. Others want the size of the magazine changed. I say, give us "fresh" stories and leave the size of the magazine alone. 

 In my opinion, the best stories in your July issue were "Beyond the Heaviside Layer" and "Earth, the Marauder. " They were both fine. Keep up the good work--Carlson Abernathy, P. O. Box 584, Clearwater, Florida. 

"_The Readers' Corner_"

All Readers are extended a sincere and cordial invitation to "comeover in 'The Readers' Corner'" and join in our monthly discussion ofstories, authors, scientific principles and possibilities--everythingthat's of common interest in connection with our Astounding Stories. 

Although from time to time the Editor may make a comment or so, thisis a department primarily for Readers, and we want you to make fulluse of it. Likes, dislikes, criticisms, explanations, roses, brickbats, suggestions--everything's welcome here; so "come over in'The Readers-Corner'" and discuss it with all of us!

--_The Editor. _

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