Transcriber's note:

      This e-text was produced from _Argosy All-Story Weekly_,
      October 21 and 28 and November, 4, 11, and 18, 1922.




THE FIRE PEOPLE

by

RAY CUMMINGS

Author of "The Golden Atom," etc.




CONTENTS

   CHAPTER I.       THE COMING OF THE LIGHT.
   CHAPTER II.      THE UNKNOWN ENEMY.
   CHAPTER III.     THE LANDING OF THE INVADERS.
   CHAPTER IV.      THE MEETING.
   CHAPTER V.       CAPTURED!
   CHAPTER VI.      MIELA.
   CHAPTER VII.     THE MERCUTIAN CAMP.
   CHAPTER VIII.    THE ESCAPE.
   CHAPTER IX.      FUTILE ATTACKS.
   CHAPTER X.       MIELA'S STORY.
   CHAPTER XI.      TO SAVE THE WORLD.
   CHAPTER XII.     THE LANDING ON MERCURY.
   CHAPTER XIII.    THE CAPTIVE EARTH-MAN.
   CHAPTER XIV.     THE RULER OF THE LIGHT COUNTRY.
   CHAPTER XV.      THE MOUNTAIN CONCLAVE.
   CHAPTER XVI.     THE FIRE PLANET.
   CHAPTER XVII.    THE FIGHT AT THE BAYOU.
   CHAPTER XVIII.   REVOLUTION.
   CHAPTER XIX.     THE NEW RULER.
   CHAPTER XX.      IN THE TWILIGHT COUNTRY.
   CHAPTER XXI.     ANOTHER LIGHT-RAY!
   CHAPTER XXII.    THE THEFT OF THE LIGHT-RAY.
   CHAPTER XXIII.   THE STROM.
   CHAPTER XXIV.    THE WATER CITY.
   CHAPTER XXV.     PREPARATIONS FOR WAR.
   CHAPTER XXVI.    THE BATTLE.
   CHAPTER XXVII.   THE SIEGE OF THE LONE CITY.
   CHAPTER XXVIII.  THE END OF TAO.
   CHAPTER XXIX.    THE RETURN.




CHAPTER I.


THE COMING OF THE LIGHT.


The first of the new meteors landed on the earth in November, 1940. It was
discovered by a farmer in his field near Brookline, Massachusetts, shortly
after daybreak on the morning of the 11th. Astronomically, the event was
recorded by the observatory at Harvard as the sudden appearance of what
apparently was a new star, increasing in the short space of a few hours
from invisibility to a power beyond that of the first magnitude, and then
as rapidly fading again to invisibility. This star was recorded by two of
the other great North American observatories, and by one in the Argentine
Republic. That it was comparatively small in mass and exceedingly close to
the earth, even when first discovered, was obvious. All observers agreed
that it was a heavenly body of an entirely new order.

The observatory at Harvard supplemented its account by recording the
falling, just before dawn of the 11th, of an extraordinarily brilliant
meteor that flamed with a curious red and green light as it entered the
earth's atmosphere. This meteor did not burn itself out, but fell, still
retaining its luminosity, from a point near the zenith, to the horizon.

What the farmer saw was a huge fire burning near the center of his field.
It was circular in form and about thirty feet in diameter. He was
astonished to see it there, but what surprised him more was its peculiar
aspect.

It was still the twilight of dawn when he reached the field. He beheld the
fire first from a point several hundred yards away. As he explained it,
the light--for it was more aptly described as a light than a
fire--extended in parallel rays from the ground directly upward into the
sky. He could see no line of demarkation where it ended at the top. It
seemed to extend into the sky an infinite distance. It was, in fact, as
though an enormous searchlight were buried in his field, casting its beam
of light directly upward.

But more than all this, the farmer was struck by the extraordinary color
of the light. At the base it was a deep, solid green. This green color
extended upward for perhaps fifty feet, then it shaded into red. The
farmer noticed, too, that the fire did not leap and dance with flames, but
seemed rather to glow--a steady light like the burning of colored powder.
In the morning half-light it threw a weird, unearthly reddish-green glow
over the field.

The farmer approached to within twenty feet of the light. He looked to see
what was burning, but could not determine, for the greenish base extended
directly down into the ground. He noticed also that it gave out
extraordinarily little heat. The morning was not exceptionally cold, yet
he stood within twenty feet of the fire without discomfort.

I was on the staff of the Boston _Observer_ at this time. I reached
Brookline about noon of the 11th of November, and went directly to the
field where the fire was burning. Nearly a thousand people were there,
watching.

By daylight the fire still held its green and red color, although its
light was much less intense. It held its characteristic shape. Though
clearly definable, under the rays of the sun it became quite transparent.
Looking through it, I could see plainly the crowd of people on the farther
side of the field. The effect was similar to looking through a faintly
tinted glass, except that now I noticed that the light had a sort of
crawling motion, like the particles of a heavy fog. The fire came from a
hole in the ground; by daylight now the hole could be seen plainly.

For some moments I stood silent, awestruck by this extraordinary
spectacle. Then a man standing beside me remarked that there was no smoke.
I had not thought of that before, but it was true--indeed, the fire
appeared phosphorescent.

"Let's get up closer," said the man beside me.

Together we walked to within ten feet of the outer edge of the fire. We
could feel its heat now, although it was not uncomfortable except when it
beat directly on our faces. Standing so close, we could see down into the
hole from which the light emanated.

Lying at the bottom of the hole, perhaps ten feet below the surface, I saw
the jagged top of an enormous gray sphere, burned and pitted. This was the
meteor--nearly thirty feet in diameter--that in its fall had buried itself
deep in the loam of the field.

As we stood there looking down into the hole some one across from us
tossed in a ball of paper. It seemed to hang poised a moment, then it
shriveled up, turned black, and floated slowly down until it rested on top
of the sphere.

Some one else threw a block of wood about a foot long into the hole. I
could see it as it struck the top of the sphere. It lay there an instant;
then it, too, turned black and charred, but it did not burst into flame.

The man beside me plucked at my sleeve. "Why don't it burn?" he asked.

I shook myself loose.

"How should I know?" I answered impatiently.

I found myself trembling all over with an unreasoning fear, for there was
something uncanny about the whole affair. I went back to Brookline soon
after that to send in the story and do some telephoning. When I got back
to the field I saw a man in front of me carrying a pail of water. I fell
into step beside him.

"What do you suppose it'll do?" he asked as we walked along.

"God knows," I answered. "Try it."

But when we got down into the field we found the police authorities in
charge. The crowd was held back now in a circle, a hundred yards away from
the light. After some argument we got past the officials, and, followed by
two camera men and a motion-picture man who bobbed up from nowhere, walked
out across the cleared space toward the light. We stopped about six or
eight feet from the edge of the hole; the heat was uncomfortably intense.

"I'll make a dash for it," said the man with the pail.

He ran forward a few steps, splashed the water into the light, and hastily
retreated. As the water struck the edge of the light there came a roar
like steam escaping under tremendous pressure; a great cloud of vapor
rolled back over us and dissolved. When the air cleared I saw that the
light, or the fire of this mysterious agency, was unchanged. The water
dashed against it had had absolutely no effect.

It was just after this incident that the first real tragedy happened. One
of the many quadruplanes that had been circling over the field during the
afternoon passed directly over the light at an altitude of perhaps three
thousand feet. We saw it sail away erratically, as though its pilot no
longer had it under control. Then it suddenly burst into flame and came
quivering down in a long, lengthening spiral of smoke.

That night the second of the meteors landed on the earth. It fell near
Juneau, Alaska, and was accompanied by the same phenomena as the one we
were watching. The reports showed it to be slightly smaller in size than
the Brookline meteor. It burned brightly during the day of November 12.
On the morning of the 13th wireless reports from Alaska stated that it had
burned out during the previous night.

Meanwhile the light at Brookline was under constant surveillance. It
remained unchanged in all respects.

The next night it rained--a heavy, pelting downpour. For a mile or more
around the field the hissing of steam could be heard as the rain struck
the light. The next morning was clear, and still we saw no change in the
light.

Then, a week later, came the cold spell of 1940. Surpassing in severity
the winters of 1888 and 1918, it broke all existing records of the Weather
Bureau. The temperature during the night of November 20, at Brookline,
fell to thirty degrees below zero. During this night the fire was seen to
dwindle gradually in size, and by morning it was entirely extinguished.

No other meteors fell that winter; and, as their significance remained
unexplained, public interest in them soon died out. The observatories at
Harvard, Flagstaff, Cordoba, and the newer one on Table Mountain, near
Cape Town, all reported the appearance of several new stars, flaring into
prominence for a few hours and visible just after sunset and before dawn,
on several nights during November. But these published statements were
casually received and aroused only slight general comment.

Then, in February, 1941, came the publication of Professor Newland's
famous theory of the Mercutian Light--as the fire was afterward known.
Professor Newland was at this time the foremost astronomer in America, and
his extraordinary theory and the predictions he made, coming from so
authoritative a source, amazed and startled the world.

His paper, couched in the language of science, was rewritten to the public
understanding and published in the newspapers of nearly every country. It
was an exhaustive scientific deduction, explaining in theory the origin of
the two meteors that had fallen to earth two months before.

In effect Professor Newland declared that the curious astronomical
phenomena of the previous November--the new "stars" observed, the two
meteors that had fallen with their red and green light-fire--were all
evidence of the existence of intelligent life on the planet Mercury.

I give you here only the more important parts of the paper as it was
rewritten for the public prints:

    ... I am therefore strongly inclined to accept the theory advanced by
    Schiaparelli in 1882, in which he concluded that Mercury rotates on
    its axis once in eighty-eight days. Now, since the sidereal revolution
    of Mercury, _i.e._, its complete revolution around the sun, occupies
    only slightly under eighty-eight days, the planet always presents the
    same face to the sun. On that side reigns perpetual day; on the
    other--the side presented to the earth as Mercury passes us--perpetual
    night.

    The existence of an atmospheric envelope on Mercury, to temper the
    extremes of heat and cold that would otherwise exist on its light and
    dark hemispheres, seems fairly certain. If there were no atmosphere on
    the planet, temperatures on that face toward the sun would be
    extraordinarily high--many hundred degrees hotter than the boiling
    point of water.

    Quite the other extreme would be the conditions on the dark side, for
    without the sheltering blanket of an atmosphere, this surface must be
    exposed to the intense cold of interplanetary space.

    I have reason to believe, however, particularly from my deductions
    made in connection with the photographs taken during the transit of
    Mercury over the face of the sun on November 11 last, that there does
    exist an atmosphere on this planet--an atmosphere that appears to be
    denser and more cloudy than our own. I am led to this conclusion by
    other evidence that has long been fairly generally accepted as fact.
    The terminating edge of the phases of Mercury is not sharp, but
    diffuse and shaded--there is here an atmospheric penumbra. The
    spectroscope also shows lines of absorption, which proves that Mercury
    has a gaseous envelope thicker than ours.

    This atmosphere, whatever may be its nature I do not assume, tempers
    the heat and cold on Mercury to a degree comparable to the earth. But
    I do believe that it makes the planet--on its dark face
    particularly--capable of supporting intelligent life of some form.

    Mercury was in transit over the face of the sun on November 11, of
    last year, within a few hours of the time the first meteor fell to
    earth. The planet was therefore at one of her closest points to the
    earth, and--this is significant--was presenting her _dark face_ toward
    us.

    At this time several new "stars" were reported, flashing into
    brilliancy and then fading again into obscurity. All were observed in
    the vicinity of Mercury; none appeared elsewhere. I believe these
    so-called "stars" to be some form of interplanetary vehicle--probably
    navigated in space by beings from Mercury. And from them were launched
    the two meteors that struck our planet. How many others were
    dispatched that may have missed their mark we have no means of
    determining.

    The days around November 11 last, owing to the proximity of Mercury to
    the earth, were most favorable for such a bombardment. A similar time
    is now once more almost upon us!

    Because of the difference in the velocities of Mercury and the earth
    in their revolutions around the sun, one synodic revolution of
    Mercury, _i.e._, from one inferior conjunction to the next, requires
    nearly one hundred and sixteen days. In eighty-eight days Mercury has
    completed her sidereal revolution, but during that time the earth has
    moved ahead a distance requiring twenty-eight days more before she can
    be overtaken.

    After the first week in March of this year therefore Mercury will
    again be approaching inferior conjunction, and again will pass at her
    closest point to the earth.

    We may expect at this time another bombardment of a severity that may
    cause tremendous destruction, or destroy entirely life on this planet!



CHAPTER II.


THE UNKNOWN ENEMY.


When, in February, 1941, Professor James Newland issued this remarkable
statement, my paper sent me at once to interview him. He was at this time
at the head of the Harvard observatory staff. He lived with his son and
daughter in Cambridge. His wife was dead. I had been acquainted with the
professor and his family for some time. I first met his son, Alan, during
our university days at Harvard. We liked each other at once, and became
firm friends--possibly because we were such opposite physical types, as
sometimes happens.

Alan was tall, lean and muscular--an inch or so over six feet--with the
perfect build of an athlete. I am dark; Alan was blond, with short, curly
hair, and blue eyes. His features were strong and regular. He was, in
fact, one of the handsomest men I have ever seen. And yet he acted as
though he didn't know it--or if he did, as though he considered it a
handicap. I think what saved him was his ingenious, ready smile, and his
retiring, unassuming--almost diffident--manner.

At the time of the events I am describing Alan was twenty-two--about two
years younger than I. It was his first year out of college. He had taken a
scientific course and intended to join his father's staff.

Beth and Alan were twins. I was tremendously interested in Beth even then.
She seemed one of the most worth-while girls I had ever met. She was a
little wisp of femininity, slender and delicate, hardly more than five
feet one or two. She had beautiful golden hair and an animated, pretty
face, with a pert little snub nose. She was a graduate of Vassar, and
planned to take up chemistry as a profession, for she had the same
scientific bent as her father and brother.

I called upon Professor Newland the evening of the day his statement was
published, and found all three discussing it.

"You want me to talk for publication, don't you, Bob Trevor?" the
professor asked suddenly, after we had exchanged a few pleasantries.

He was a wiry little man, about sixty, smooth-shaven, with sparse gray
hair, a rugged face of strong character, and a restless air of energy
about him. He was an indefatigable worker; indeed, I am confident that,
for any single continuous period of work without sleep, he could have run
Alan and me into the ground and still have been comparatively fresh.

"You want an exclusive follow-up story from me to-night, don't you?" he
repeated.

I admitted that I did.

"What you'll get won't be just what you expect. Look at this."

He pulled one of the evening papers toward him vigorously. "They think it
is humorous. There--read that."

The item to which he pointed was a sprightly account of the weird beings
that might shortly arrive from Mercury.

"They think it's a joke--some of them. There's another--read that."

The attitude of the press was distinctly an inclination to treat the
affair from the humorous side. I had seen indications of that during the
day at the office.

"Look here, Bob"--the professor swept all the papers aside with his hand.
"You put it to them this way. Make them see this is not a prediction of
the end of the world. We've had those before--nobody pays any attention to
them, and rightly so. But this Mercutian Light is more than a theory--it's
a fact. We fought it last November, and we'll have to fight it again next
month. That's what I want to make them realize."

"They'll think it is worth being serious about," Alan put in, "if one of
those lights drop into Boston or New York--especially if it happens to
play in a horizontal direction instead of vertical."

We went into the whole subject thoroughly, and the professor gave me a
second signed statement in which he called upon the nations of the world
to prepare for the coming peril.

The actual characteristics of the Mercutian Light we had discussed before
several times. A good deal had been printed about it during the previous
December--without, as I have said, attracting much public attention. The
two meteors had been examined. They were found to be of a mineral that
could have originated on Mercury. They were burned and pitted like other
meteorites by their passage through the earth's atmosphere.

Of the light itself Professor Newland had already given his opinion. It
was, he said, some unknown form of etheric vibration. It radiated heat
very slightly, but it had the peculiarity of generating intense heat in
anything it touched directly.

"You'd better explain that, father," said Beth, when we reached this point
in our summary that evening.

"Heat is the vibration of molecules of matter," the professor began.

I nodded.

"Make it clear when you write it up, Bob," Alan put in. "It's like this.
All molecules are in motion--the faster the motion, the hotter the
substance, and vice versa."

"And this Mercutian Light," Beth added, "has the power of enormously
increasing the molecular vibration of anything it comes in contact with--"

"But it doesn't radiate much heat itself," Alan finished.

Professor Newland smiled. "The old man doesn't have much of a show, does
he?"

Alan sat down somewhat abashed, but Beth remained standing beside her
father, listening intently to everything he said.

"This light I conceive to be the chief weapon of warfare of the
Mercutians," the professor went on. "There has been some talk of those two
meteors being signals. That's all nonsense. They were not signals--they
were missiles. It was an act of aggression."

I tried to get him to give some idea of what the inhabitants of Mercury
might be like, for that was what my editor chiefly desired.

At first he would say nothing along those lines.

"That is pure speculation," he explained. "And very easy speculation, too.
Any one can allow his imagination to run wild and picture strange beings
of another world. I don't predict they will actually land on the
earth--and I have no idea what they will look like if they do land. As a
matter of fact, they will probably look very much like ourselves. I see no
reason to doubt it."

"Like us?" I ejaculated.

"Why not?" said Alan. "Conditions on Mercury are not fundamentally
different from here. We don't have to conceive any very extraordinary sort
of being to fill them."

"Here's what you can tell your paper," said the professor abruptly. "Take
it down."

I took out my notebook, and he dictated briskly.

"Regarding the possible characteristics of inhabitants of Mercury, it is
my conception that intelligent life--let us say, human life--wherever it
exists in our universe does not greatly differ in character from that of
our own planet. Mars, Venus, Mercury, even Neptune, are relatively close.
I believe the Creator has constructed all human life on the same general
plan.

"I believe that, being neighbors--if I may be permitted the expression--it
is intended that intercourse between the planets should take place. That
we have been isolated up to the present time is only because of our
ignorance--our inability to bridge the gap. I believe that migration,
friendship, commerce, even war, between the inhabitants of different
planets of our solar system was intended by Almighty God--and, in good
time, will come to pass.

"This is not science; and yet science does not contradict it, in my
opinion. Human life on Mercury, Venus or Mars may need bodies taller,
shorter, heavier, lighter, more fragile or more solid than ours. The
organs will differ from ours, perhaps, but not materially so. The senses
will be the same.

"In a word, I believe that nearly all the range of diversity of human life
existing on any of the planets exists now on this earth, or has existed in
the past, or will exist in the future through our own development, or at
most the differences would not be greater than a descent into our animal
kingdom would give us.

"Mercutians may have the sense of smell developed to the point of a dog;
the instinct of direction of the homing pigeon; the eyes of a cat in the
dark, or an owl in the light; but I cannot conceive of them being so
different that similar illustrations would not apply.

"I believe the Creator intends intercourse of some kind, friendly or
unfriendly, to take place between the worlds. As China was for centuries,
so for eons we of this earth have been isolated. That time is past. The
first act was one of aggression. Let us wait for the next calmly but
soberly, with full realization of the danger. For we may be--indeed, I
think we are--approaching the time of greatest peril that human life on
this earth has ever had to face!"



CHAPTER III.


THE LANDING OF THE INVADERS.


March 8, 1941, was the date at which Mercury was again to be in inferior
conjunction--at her closest point to the earth since her transit over the
face of the sun on November 11 of the previous year. During
February--after Professor Newland's statements--the subject received a
tremendous amount of publicity. Some scientific men rallied to Professor
Newland's support; others scouted the idea as absurd.

Officially, the governments of the world ignored the matter entirely. In
general, the press, editorially, wrote in a humorous vein, conjuring up
many ridiculous possibilities of what was about to happen. The public
followed this lead. It was amused, interested to a degree; but, as a mass,
neither apprehensive nor serious--only curious.

In some parts of the earth--among the smaller Latin nations
particularly--some apprehension was felt. But even so, no one knew what to
do about it--where to go to avoid the danger--for the attack, if it came
at all, was as likely to strike one country as another.

The first week in March arrived with public interest steadily increasing.
Mercury, always difficult of observation, presented no spectacle for the
public gaze and imagination to feed upon. But, all over the world, there
were probably more eyes turned toward the setting and rising sun during
that week than ever had been turned there before.

Professor Newland issued no more statements after that evening I have
described. He was taken with a severe cold in the latter part of February,
and as Beth was in delicate health and did not stand the Northern winters
well, the whole family left for a few months' stay at their bungalow home
in Florida. They were quite close to the little village of Bay Head, on
the Gulf coast. I kept in communication with them there.

The 8th of March came and passed without a report from any part of the
earth of the falling of the Mercutian meteors. Satirical comment in the
press doubled. There was, indeed, no scientific report of any unusual
astronomical phenomena, except from the Harvard observatory the following
morning. There Professor Newland's assistant, Professor Brighton, stated
he had again observed a new "star"--an interplanetary vehicle, as
Professor Newland described it. Only a single one had been observed this
time. It was seen just before dawn of the 9th.

Then, about 4 P.M., Atlantic time, on the afternoon of the 9th, the world
was electrified by the report of the landing of invaders in the United
States. The news came by wireless from Billings, Montana. An
interplanetary vehicle of huge size had landed on the desert in the
Shoshone River district of northern Wyoming, west of the Big Horn
Mountains.

This strange visitor--it was described as a gleaming, silvery object
perhaps a hundred feet in diameter--had landed near the little Mormon
settlement of Byron. The hope that its mission might be friendly was
dispelled even in the first report from Billings. The characteristic red
and green light-fire had swept the country near by--a horizontal beam this
time--and the town of Byron was reported destroyed, and in all likelihood
with the loss of its entire population.

The Boston _Observer_ sent me to Billings almost immediately by
quadruplane. I arrived there about eight o'clock on the evening of the
10th. The city was in a turmoil. Ranchers from the neighboring cattle
country thronged its streets. A perfect exodus of people--Mormons and oil
men from Shoshone country, almost the entire populations of Cody, Powell,
Garland, and other towns near the threatened section, the Indians from the
Crow Reservation at Frannie--all were streaming through Billings.

The Wyoming State Airplane Patrol, gathered in a squadron by orders from
Cheyenne, occasionally passed overhead, flashing huge white searchlights.
I went immediately to the office of the Billings _Dispatch_. It was so
crowded I could not get in. From what I could pick up among the excited,
frightened people of Billings, and the various bulletins that the
_Dispatch_ had sent out during the day, the developments of the first
twenty-four hours of Mercutian invasion were these:

Only a single "vehicle"--we called it that for want of a better name--had
landed. Airplane observation placed its exact position on the west bank of
the Shoshone River, about four miles southwest of Byron and the same
distance southeast of Garland. The country here is typically that of the
Wyoming desert--sand and sagebrush--slightly rolling in some places, with
occasional hills and buttes.

The Chicago, Burlington and Quincy Railroad runs down its spur from the
Northern Pacific near Billings, passes through the towns of Frannie--near
the border of Montana and Wyoming--and Garland, and terminates at Cody.
This line, running special trains throughout the day, had brought up a
large number of people. During the afternoon a bomb of some kind--it was
vaguely described as a variation of the red and green light-rays--had
destroyed one of the trains near Garland. The road was now open only down
to Frannie.

The town of Byron, I learned, was completely annihilated. It had been
swept by the Mercutian Light and destroyed by fire. Garland was as yet
unharmed. There was broken country between it and the Mercutian invaders,
and the rays of the single light which they were using could not reach it
directly.

Such, briefly, was the situation as I found it that evening of the 10th.
In Billings we were sixty-five miles north of the Mercutian landing place.
What power for attack and destruction the enemy had, we had no means of
determining. How many of them there were; how they could travel over the
country; what the effective radius of their light-fire was; the nature of
the "bomb" that had destroyed the train on the C., B. and Q. near the town
of Garland--all those were questions that no one could answer.

Billings was, during those next few days, principally a gathering place
and point of departure for refugees. Yet, so curiously is the human mind
constituted, underneath all this turmoil the affairs of Billings went on
as before. The stores did not close; the Billings _Dispatch_ sent out its
reports; the Northern Pacific trains from east and west daily brought
their quota of reporters, picture men and curiosity seekers, and took away
all who had sense enough to go. The C., B. and Q. continued running trains
to Frannie--which was about fifteen miles from the Mercutian landing
place--and many of the newspaper men, most of those, in fact, who did not
have airplanes, went there.

That first evening in Billings, Rolland Mercer--a chap about my own age,
who had brought me from the East in one of the Boston _Observer's_
planes--and I, decided on a short flight about the neighboring country to
look the situation over. We started about midnight, a crisp, cloudless
night with no moon. We had been warned against venturing into the danger
zone; several of the Wyoming patrol and numbers of private planes had been
seen to fall in flames when the light struck them.

We had no idea what the danger zone was--how close we dared go--but
decided to chance it. To fly sufficiently high for safety directly over
the Mercutians appeared difficult, since the light-fire already had proven
effective at a distance of several miles at least. We decided not to
attempt that, but merely to follow the course of the C., B. and Q.
southwest to Cody, then to circle around to the east, and thence back
north to Billings, passing well to the east of the Mercutians.

We started, as I have said, about midnight, rising from the rolling
prairie back of Billings. We climbed five hundred feet and, with our
searchlight playing upon the ground beneath, started directly for Frannie.
We passed over Frannie at about eight hundred feet, and continued on the
C., B. and Q. line toward Garland. We had decided to pass to a
considerable extent to the west of Garland, to be farther away from the
danger, and then to strike down to Cody.

We were flying now at a speed close to a hundred and forty miles an hour.
Off to the left I could see the red and green beam of the single light of
the Mercutians; it was pointing vertically up into the air, motionless.
Something--I do not know what--made me decide to turn off our searchlight.

I looked behind us. Some miles away, and considerably nearer the
Mercutians than we were, I saw the light of another plane. I was watching
it when suddenly the red and green beam swung toward it, and a moment
later picked it up. I caught a fleeting glimpse of what I took to be a
little biplane. It remained for an instant illuminated by the weird red
and green flare; then the Mercutian Light swung back to its vertical
position. A second later the biplane burst into flames and fell.

The thing left me shuddering. I turned our searchlight permanently off and
sat staring down at the shadowy country scurrying away beneath us.

Mercer had evidently not seen this tragedy. He did not look at me, but
kept facing the front. We were now somewhat to the west of Garland, with
it between us and the Mercutians. The few lights of the town could be seen
plainly. The country beneath us seemed fairly level. To the west, half a
mile away, perhaps, I could make out a sheer, perpendicular wall of rock.
We seemed to be flying parallel with it and about level with its top.

We were rising a little, I think, when suddenly our engines stopped. I
remember it flashed through my mind to wonder how Mercer would dare shut
them off when we were flying so low. The sudden silence confused me a
little. I started to ask him if he had seen the biplane fall, when he
swung back abruptly and gripped me by the arm.

"Turn on the light--you fool--we've got to land!"

I fumbled with the searchlight. Then, just as I turned the switch, I saw,
rising from a point near the base of the Mercutian Light, what appeared to
be a skyrocket.

It rose in a long, graceful arc, reached the top of its ascent, and came
down, still flaming. I remember deciding it would fall in or near Garland.

It seemed to go out just before it landed--at least I did not follow it
all the way down. Then there came a flash as though a huge quantity of red
and green smokeless powder had gone off in a puff; a brief instant of
darkness, and then flames rose from a hundred points in the little town.
The next second our wheels ground in the sand.

I heard a splintering crash; something struck me violently on the
shoulder; then--blackness.



CHAPTER IV.


THE MEETING.


Professor Newland and his family were living in seclusion in their Florida
home at the time the Mercutian invaders landed in Wyoming. The curious
events in Florida, which connected them so directly with the invasion and
caused Alan later to play so vital a part in it, are so important that I
am impelled to relate them chronologically, rather than as they were told
me afterward by Alan and Beth.

When, on March 9, the news that the Mercutians had landed in Wyoming
reached Professor Newland, he immediately established telegraphic
communication with Harvard. Thus he was kept fully informed on the
situation--indeed, he saw it as a whole far better than I did.

On March 12, three days after the landing, orders from Washington were
given out, regulating all passenger transportation in the direction of the
danger zone. One hundred miles was the limit set. State troops were placed
on all trains, State roads were likewise guarded, and the State airplane
patrols united in a vigilant effort to keep outside planes from getting
in. On the 13th the President of the United States issued an appeal to all
persons living within the hundred-mile limit, asking them to leave.

On March 14 the Canadian government offered its assistance in any way
possible--its Saskatchewan airplane patrol was already helping Montana
maintain the hundred-mile limit. Similar offers were immediately made by
nearly every government in the world.

Such were the first main steps taken to safeguard the people.

By March 14 the actual conditions of affairs in the threatened section of
Wyoming was fairly well known. The town of Garland was destroyed by fire
on the night of the 10th, and the towns of Mantua and Powell--north and
south of Garland respectively--the following morning. On the evening of
the 11th a government plane, flying without lights, sacrificed itself in
an attempt to drop a bomb into the Mercutian camp. It was caught by the
light when almost directly over the Mercutians, and was seen to fall in
flames.

It was estimated that the single light was controlling an area with a
radius of about ten miles. To the south and west there was practically
nothing but desert. To the west Garland, Mantua and Powell were burned. To
the north Deaver and Crowley--on another branch of the C., B. and Q.,
about ten miles from the Mercutians--were as yet unharmed. They were,
however, entirely deserted by the 15th.

During these days the Mercutians did not move from their first landing
place. Newspaper speculation regarding their capabilities for offensive
action ran rife. Perhaps they could not move. They appeared to possess but
one ray of light-fire; this had an effective radius of ten miles. The only
other offensive weapon shown was the rocket, or bomb, that had destroyed
the C., B. and Q. train near Garland and the town itself. Reports differed
as to what had set fire to the town of Powell.

All these points were less than ten miles away from the Mercutian base.
Obviously, then, the danger was grossly exaggerated. The unknown invaders
could safely and easily be shelled by artillery from a much greater
distance. Mercury had passed inferior conjunction; no other Mercutian
vehicles had been reported as landing anywhere on the earth. A few days,
and the danger would be over. Thus the newspapers of the country settled
the affair.

On March 14th it was announced that General Price would conduct the
military operations against the Mercutians. Press dispatches
simultaneously announced that troops, machine guns and artillery were
being rushed to Billings. This provoked a caustic comment from the
Preparedness League of America, to the effect that no military operations
of any offensive value could be conducted by the United States against
anybody or anything.

This statement was to some extent true. During the twenty years that had
elapsed since the World War armament of all kinds had fallen into disuse.
Few improvements in offensive weapons had been made. The military
organization and equipment of the United States, and, indeed, that of many
of the other great powers, was admittedly inadequate to cope with any very
powerful enemy.

Professor Newland telegraphed to the War Department at Washington on the
14th, stating that in his opinion new scientific measures would have to be
devised to deal with this enemy, and that whatever scientific knowledge he
had on the subject was at their disposal at their request. To this
telegram the government never replied.

It was a day or two after that--on the morning of the 16th, to be
exact--that the next most important development in this strange affair
took place. Alan Newland rose that morning at dawn and took his launch for
a trip up one of the neighboring bayous. He was alone, and intended to
fish for an hour or so and return home in time for breakfast.

He went, perhaps, three miles up the winding little stream. Then, just
after sunrise, he shut off the motor and drifted silently along. The bayou
split into two streams here, coming together again a quarter of a mile
farther on, and thus forming a little island. It was just past the point
of this island that Alan shut off his motor.

He had been sitting quiet several minutes preparing his tackle, when his
eye caught something moving behind the dark green of the magnolia trees
hanging over the low banks of the island. It seemed to be a flicker of red
and white some five feet above the ground. Instinctively he reached for
the little rifle he had brought with him to shoot at it, thinking it might
be a bird, although he had never seen one before of such a color.

A moment later, in the silence, he heard a rustling of the palmettos near
the bank of the bayou. He waited, quiet, with the rifle across his knees.
His launch was still moving forward slowly from the impetus of the motor.
And then, quite suddenly, he came into sight of the figure of a girl
standing motionless beside a tree on the island a few feet back from the
water and evidently watching him.

Alan was startled. He knew there was no one living on the island. There
were, in fact, few people at all in the vicinity--only an occasional negro
shack or the similar shack of the "poor white trash," and a turpentine
camp, several miles back in the pines.

But it was not the presence of the girl here on the island at daybreak
that surprised him most, but the appearance of the girl herself. He sat
staring at her dumbly, wondering if he were awake or dreaming. For the
girl--who otherwise might have appeared nothing more than an
extraordinarily beautiful young female of this earth, somewhat
fantastically dressed--the girl had wings!

He rubbed his eyes and looked again. There was no doubt about it--they
were huge, deep-red feathered wings, reaching from her shoulder blades
nearly to the ground. She took a step away from the tree and flapped them
once or twice idly. Alan could see they would measure nearly ten feet from
tip to tip when outstretched. His launch had lost its forward motion now,
and for the moment was lying motionless in the sluggish bayou. Hardly
fifty feet separated him from the girl.

Her eyes stared into his for a time--a quiet, curious stare, with no hint
of fear in it. Then she smiled. Her lips moved, but the soft words that
reached him across the water were in a language he could not understand.
But he comprehended her gesture; it distinctly bade him come ashore. Alan
took a new grip on himself, gathered his scattered wits, and tried to
think connectedly.

He laid his rifle in the bottom of the launch; then, just as he was
reaching for an oar, he saw back among the tall cabbage palms on the
island in an open space, a glowing, silvery object, like a house painted
silver and shining under the rays of a brilliant sun.

Then the whole thing came to him. He remembered the press descriptions
from Wyoming of the Mercutian vehicle. He saw this white rectangle on the
little Florida island as a miniature of that which had brought the
invaders of Wyoming from space. And then this girl--

Fear for an instant supplanted amazement in Alan Newland's heart. He
looked around. He could see back into the trees plainly, almost across the
island. He stood up in the boat. There seemed no one else in sight.

Alan sat down and, taking up the oar, sculled the launch toward the spot
where the girl was standing. His mind still refused to think clearly. The
vague thought came to him that he might be struck dead by some unknown
power the instant he landed. Then, as he again met the girl's eyes--a
clear, direct, honest gaze with something of a compelling dignity in
it--his fear suddenly left him.

A moment later the bow of the launch pushed its way through the wire grass
and touched the bank. Alan laid aside his oar, tied the boat to a
half-submerged log, and stepped ashore.



CHAPTER V.


CAPTURED!


When I recovered consciousness I found myself lying in the sand with
Mercer sitting beside me. It was still night. The tangled wreckage of our
airplane lay near by; evidently Mercer had carried me out of it.

I sat up.

"I'm all right," I said. "What happened?"

He grinned at me with relief.

"The damned engine stopped. I don't know what was the matter. You had the
light off. I couldn't see anything when we got down close."

He waved his hand toward the wrecked plane.

"It's done for," he added; "but I'm not hurt much. Are you?"

"No," I said. "I'm all right."

I climbed to my feet unsteadily; my head seemed about to split open.

"Garland's burning," he added.

Over the desert, some two or three miles away, the burning town could be
seen plainly.

"What are we going to do?" Mercer asked after a moment.

I was pretty weak and badly bruised all over. Mercer seemed to have fared
better than I. We talked over our situation at length. Finally we decided
to rest where we were until daybreak. I would feel better then, and we
could start back on foot for Mantua and Frannie.

I lay down again--my head was going round like a top--and Mercer sat
beside me. It was pretty cold, but we were warmly dressed and not
uncomfortable. The fact that we were so close to the Mercutians--not much
over seven or eight miles--worried us a little. But we reasoned that we
were in no great danger. We could still see their light-ray standing
vertically in the air.

Occasionally it would swing slowly to one side or the other. Once it swung
toward us, but as its base was in a hollow, it was cut off by the higher
ground between as it swung down, and we knew it could not reach us from
that position.

After a while I fell asleep. When Mercer woke me up it was dawn.

"Let's get started," he said. "I'm hungry as the devil."

I felt much better now. I was hungry myself, and stiff, and chilled.

"You'll feel better walking," he added. "Come on. It'll take us a deuce of
a while over this sand."

We decided to strike for the railroad at its closest point to us. The
State automobile road to Cody ran along near the railroad, and we planned
to follow that up to Mantua.

After a last look at our plane, which was hopelessly demolished, we
started off, heading north of Garland. We had been walking along a few
minutes when Mercer suddenly gripped me by the arm. I followed the
direction of his glance. Another rocket was rising from the Mercutian
base. It was still dark enough for us to see its flare as it rose and
curved in a long, graceful arc. We stopped stock still and stood watching.
The rocket arched over to the north. As it came down we lost sight of it.

"That went into Mantua," said Mercer in a horrified whisper.

A moment later we saw, in the direction of Mantua, that brief, silent,
smokeless red and green flash. Then the sky lighted up a lurid red, and we
knew Mantua was burning.

We stood looking at each other for a time, too frightened and horrified
for words. The thing was not like modern warfare. It was uncanny in its
silent deadliness, and there seemed a surety about it that was appalling.

"We're cut off," said Mercer finally.

His face was white and his voice trembled.

We were both pretty much unnerved, but after a moment we got ourselves
together and talked calmly about what was best for us to do.

We concluded finally to go ahead to the road. We calculated we were not
over two miles from the nearest part of it. We would strike it about
halfway between Garland and Mantua, and we thought it just possible we
would find passing along it some refugees from the two towns. I couldn't
quite see how meeting them could help us any, unless we encountered some
vehicle that would give us a lift. However, the walking would be easier,
and when we got to the road we could decide which way to go--north to
Frannie, or south around Garland to Powell.

The sun was just rising when we started again. It took us nearly an hour
to reach the road. As far as we could see it was deserted. We stopped here
and held another consultation.

"It's easily twelve miles up to Frannie," I said, "and I don't believe
more than eight to Powell. Let's go that way. We can get down to Cody from
there. I guess there are still people left in Powell."

We started down the road toward Garland. It seemed the sensible thing to
do. We were both famished by now and thirsty also. I had an idea that,
since the fires in Garland were about burned out, there might be an
isolated house unharmed, where we could find food and water.

I sometimes wonder now at our temerity in venturing so calmly to face this
unknown danger. We were in the enemy's country--an enemy whose methods of
attacking us might at any moment prove a hundred times more efficacious
than they had so far. But we did not consider that then.

There was, indeed, nothing else we could have done advantageously. This
road we were on was the only one within twenty or thirty miles. To have
struck west from our wrecked plane--away from the Mercutians--would have
brought us to face a hundred miles or more of desert over to the
Yellowstone.

It was now broad daylight--and almost cloudless, as is usual in this
locality. Half an hour of walking brought us nearly to the outskirts of
Garland. There was less smoke all the time. We judged the fire must be
pretty well burned out by now. Behind us the smoke of Mantua, a much
larger town than Garland, rose in a great rolling cloud.

We were walking along, wondering what we should find ahead, when suddenly
behind Garland and off to the right we saw another huge cloud of smoke
rising.

"Powell!" ejaculated Mercer, coming to a dead stop in the road. "Good God,
they've got Powell, too!"

There was no doubt about it--the town of Powell was also in flames. We sat
down together then at the side of the road. We didn't quite know what else
to do. We were both faint. Our situation seemed every moment to be getting
worse; we appeared further from even comparative safety now than when we
left our plane at dawn.

There seemed nothing else to do now but go ahead into Garland, a distance
of only half a mile. There we might find food and water; and, thus
refreshed, we could start back north to cover the fifteen miles to
Frannie.

Garland, a few days before, was a town of about five hundred inhabitants;
but I do not suppose that, at the time of its destruction, there were more
than a score or two of people remaining in it.

We started off again, and within twenty minutes were among the smoldering
houses of the town. It consisted practically of only one street--the road
we were on--with the houses strung along it. The houses had been, most of
them, small frame structures. They were nothing now but smoldering heaps
of ashes with the chimneys left standing, like gaunt, silent sentinels. As
we passed on down the road we saw several twisted forms that we took for
the remains of human beings. It is unnecessary for me to describe them. We
hurried on, shuddering.

Our objective was the lower end of the town, for there, perhaps a quarter
of a mile off to one side with a branch road leading to it, we saw a
single house and out-buildings left standing. We turned down this road and
approached the house. It was a rather good-looking building of the
bungalow type with a wide-spreading porch. Beside it stood a long, low,
rectangular building we took to be a garage. There was an automobile
standing in the doorway, and behind it we caught the white gleam of an
airplane wing.

"We're all right now," cried Mercer. "There's a car, and there's a plane
inside. One of them ought to run."

At this unexpected good fortune we were jubilant. We could get back to
Billings now in short order.

We climbed up the porch steps and entered the house. We did not call out,
for it seemed obvious that no one would be there after what had occurred
in Garland so near by.

"There must be something to eat here," I said. "Let's find out--and then
get back to Billings."

The big living room was empty, but there was no sign of disorder. A closed
door stood near at hand.

"That might be the way to the kitchen," I suggested. "Come on."

I pushed open the door and entered, with Mercer close behind me. It was a
bedroom. The bed stood over by a window. I stopped in horror, for on the
bed, hunched forward in a sitting position, was the body of a man!

With the first sudden shock of surprise over, we stopped to note details.
The man's hand, lying on the blanket, clutched a revolver. A mirror
directly across from him was shattered as though by a bullet. A small
bedroom chair was overturned near the center of the room.

"He--he isn't burned." Mercer spoke the words hardly above a whisper.
"Something else killed him--there's been a fight. They--"

He stopped.

A sudden panic seized me. I wanted to run--to do something--anything--that
would get me away from the nameless, silent terror that seemed all about.

"Come on," I whispered back. "God! Let's get out of here."

As we got out into the living room we heard slow, dragging footsteps on
the porch outside. We stopped again, shrinking back against the wall.

"They--they--it's--" Mercer's whispered words died away. We were both
terrified beyond the power of reasoning. The dragging footsteps came
closer--a sound that had in it nothing of human tread. Then we heard soft
voices--words that were unintelligible.

"It's the Mercutians," I found voice to whisper. "They--"

A figure appeared in the porch doorway, outlined against the light
behind--the figure of a short, squat man. He seemed to have on some sort
of white, furry garment. He was bareheaded, with hair falling to his
shoulders.

At the sight of him my terror suddenly left me. Here was an enemy I could
cope with. The dread fear of supernatural beings that had possessed me
evaporated.

With a shout to Mercer I dashed forward directly at the doorway. I think
the Mercutian had not yet seen us; he stood quite still, his body blocking
the full width of the doorway.

I let fly with my fist as I came up and hit him full in the face. At the
same instant my body struck his. He toppled backward and I went through
the doorway. I tripped over him on the porch outside and fell sprawling.
Before I could rise three other Mercutians fell upon me and pinned me
down.

Mercer was right behind me in the doorway. I saw him pause an instant to
see what was happening. There seemed to be five Mercutians altogether. The
one I had hit lay quite still. Three others were holding me.

The fifth stood to one side, watching Mercer, but apparently inactive.

I saw Mercer hesitate. An expression of surprise came over his face. His
body swayed; he took a single step forward, half turned, and then fell in
a crumpled heap.



CHAPTER VI.


MIELA.


The girl stood quiet beside the tree, watching Alan as he tied up his
boat. She continued smiling. Alan stood up and faced her. He wondered what
he should say--whether she could understand him any better than he could
her.

"You speak English?" he began hesitantly.

The girl did not answer at once; she seemed to be trying to divine his
meaning. Then she waved her hand--a curious movement, which he took to be
a gesture of negation--her broadening smile disclosing teeth that were
small, even, and very white.

At this closer view Alan could see she was apparently about twenty years
old, as time is reckoned on earth. Her body was very slender, gracefully
rounded, yet with an appearance of extreme fragility. Her slenderness, and
the long, sleek wings behind, made her appear taller than she really was;
actually she was about the height of a normal woman of our own race.

Her legs were covered by a pair of trousers of some silky fabric, grayish
blue in color. Her bare feet were incased in sandals, the golden cords of
which crossed her insteps and wound about her ankles, fastening down the
lower hems of the trousers. A silken, gray-blue scarf was wound about her
waist; crossing in front, it passed up over her breast and shoulders,
crossing again between the wings behind and descending to the waist.

Her hair was a smooth, glossy black. It was parted in the middle, covered
her ears, and came forward over each shoulder. The plaits were bound
tightly around with silken cords; each was fastened to her body in two
places, at the waist and, where the plait ended, the outside of the
trouser leg just above the knee.

Her skin was cream colored, smooth in texture, and with a delicate flush
of red beneath the surface. Her eyes were black, her face small and oval,
with a delicately pointed chin. There was nothing remarkable about her
features except that they were extraordinarily beautiful. But--and this
point Alan noticed at once--there was in her expression, in the delicacy
of her face, a spiritual look that he had never seen in a woman before. It
made him trust her; and--even then, I think--love her, too.

Such was the strange girl as Alan saw her that morning standing beside the
tree on the bank of the little Florida bayou.

"I can't talk your language," said Alan. He realized it was a silly thing
to say. But his smile answered hers, and he went forward until he was
standing close beside her. She did not appear so tall now, for he towered
over her, the strength and bigness of his frame making hers seem all the
frailer by contrast.

He held out his hand. The girl looked at it, puzzled.

"Won't you shake hands?" he said; and then he realized that, too, was a
silly remark.

She wrinkled up her forehead in thought; then, with a sudden
comprehension, she laughed--a soft little ripple of laughter--and placed
her hand awkwardly in his.

As he released her hand she reached hers forward and brushed it lightly
against his cheek. Alan understood that was her form of greeting. Then she
spread her wings and curtsied low--making as charming a picture, he
thought, as he had ever seen in his life.

As she straightened up her eyes laughed into his, and again she spoke a
few soft words--wholly unintelligible. Then she pointed toward the sun,
which was still low over the horizon, and then to the silver object lying
back near the center of the island.

"I know," said Alan. "Mercury."

The girl repeated his last word immediately, enunciating it almost
perfectly. Then she laid her hand upon her breast, saying: "Miela."

"Alan," he answered, indicating himself.

The girl laughed delightedly, repeating the word several times. Then she
took him by the hand and made him understand that she wished to lead him
back into the island.

They started off, and then Alan noticed a curious thing. She walked as
though weighted to the ground by some invisible load. She did not raise
her feet normally, but dragged them, like a diver who walks on land in his
heavily weighted iron shoes. After a few steps she spread her wings, and,
flapping them slowly, was able to get along better, although it was
obvious that she could not lift her body off the ground to fly.

For a moment Alan was puzzled, then he understood. The force of gravity on
earth was too great for the power of her muscles, which were developed
only to meet the pull of Mercury--a very much smaller planet.

The girl was so exceedingly frail Alan judged she did not weigh, here on
earth, much over a hundred pounds. But even that he could see was too much
for her. She could not fly, and it was only by the aid of her wings that
she was able to walk with anything like his own freedom of movement.

He made her understand, somehow, that he comprehended her plight. Then,
after a time, he put his left arm about her waist. She spread the great
red wings out behind him, the right one passing over his shoulder; and in
this fashion they went forward more easily.

The girl kept constantly talking and gesturing. She seemed remarkably
intelligent; and even then, at the very beginning of their
acquaintanceship, she made Alan understand that she intended to learn his
language. Indeed, she seemed concerned about little else; and she went
about her task systematically and with an ability that amazed him.

As they walked forward she kept continually stooping to touch objects on
the ground--a stick, a handful of sand, a woodland flower, or a palmetto
leaf. Or, again, she would indicate articles of his clothing, or his
features. In each case Alan gave her the English word; and in each case
she repeated it after him.

Once she stopped stock still, and with astonishing rapidity and accuracy
rattled off the whole list--some fifteen or twenty words
altogether--pointing out each object as she enunciated the word.

Alan understood then--and he found out afterward it was the case--that the
girl's memory was extraordinarily retentive, far more retentive than is
the case with any normal earth person. He discovered also, a little later,
that her intuitive sense was highly developed. She seemed, in many
instances, to divine his meaning, quite apart from his words or the
gestures--which often were unintelligible to her--with which he
accompanied them.

After a time they reached the Mercutian vehicle. It was a cubical box,
with a pyramid-shaped top, some thirty feet square at the base, and
evidently constructed of metal, a gleaming white nearer like silver than
anything else Alan could think of. He saw that it had a door on the side
facing him, and several little slitlike windows, covered by a thick,
transparent substance which might have been glass.

As they got up close to it Alan expected the girl's companions to come
out. His heart beat faster. Suddenly he raised his voice and shouted:
"Hello, inside!"

The girl looked startled. Then she smiled and made the negative gesture
with her hand.

Alan understood then that she was alone. They went inside the vehicle. It
was dark in there. Alan could make out little, but after a moment his eyes
grew accustomed to the darkness.

He noticed first that the thing was very solidly constructed. He expected
to see some complicated mechanism, but there was little or nothing of the
kind so far as he could make out in the darkness in this first hurried
inspection.

Fastened to one wall was an apparatus which he judged was for the making
of oxygen. He looked around for batteries, and for electric lights, but
could see nothing of the kind.

All this time Alan's mind had been busily trying to puzzle out the mystery
of the girl's presence here alone. Evidently she came in the most friendly
spirit; and thus, quite evidently, her mission, whatever it was, must be
very different from that of the invaders who had landed almost
simultaneously in Wyoming.

Whatever it was that had brought her--whatever her purpose--he realized it
must be important. The girl, even now, seemed making no effort to show or
explain anything to him, but continued plying him with questions that gave
her the English words of everything about them that she could readily
indicate.

Alan knew then that she must have something important to
communicate--something that she wanted to say as quickly as possible. And
he knew that she realized the only way was for her to learn his language,
which she was doing with the least possible loss of time, and with an
utter disregard of everything else that might have obtruded.

Alan decided then to take the girl back home with him--indeed, it had
never been in his mind to do anything else--and let Beth care for her.
Meanwhile he would do everything he could to help her get the knowledge
necessary to make known what it was that had brought her from Mercury.
That she had some direct connection with the Wyoming invaders he did not
doubt.

Alan had just reached this decision when the girl made him realize that
she had the same thought in mind. She pointed around the room and then to
herself, and he knew that she was insisting upon a general word to include
all her surroundings.

Finally Alan answered: "House."

After pointing to him, she waved her hand vaguely toward the country
outside the open doorway, and he understood she was asking where his house
was.

Alan's decision was given promptly. "We'll go there," he said.

He put his arm about her and started out. By the way she immediately
responded he knew she understood, and that it was what she wished to do.

They got back to Alan's launch in a few moments. He seated her in the
stern of the boat, where she half reclined with her wings spread out a
little behind her. So assiduous was she--and so facile--in her task of
learning English, that before she would let him start the motor she had
learned the names of many of the new objects in sight, and several verbs
connected with his actions of the moment.

There was a large tarpaulin in the launch, and this Alan wrapped about the
girl's shoulders. He did not want her vivid red wings to be seen by any
one as they passed down the bayou.

Finally they started off.

Professor Newland's home was some three miles from the village of Bay
Head, on the shore of a large bay which opened into the Gulf of Mexico.
The bayou down which they were heading flowed into this bay near where the
house stood. Their home was quite isolated, Alan thought with
satisfaction. There was no other habitation nearer than Bay Head except a
few negro shacks. With the girl's wings covered he could take her home and
keep her there, in absolute seclusion, without causing any comment that
might complicate things.

On the way down the bayou the girl showed extreme interest in everything
about her. She seemed to have no fear, trusting Alan implicitly in his
guidance and protection of her in this strange world. She continued her
questions; she laughed frequently, with almost a childlike freedom from
care. Only once or twice, he noticed, as some thought occurred to her, the
laughter died away, her face suddenly sobered, and a far-away, misty look
came into her beautiful eyes.

Alan sat close beside her in the stern, steering the launch and
occasionally pulling the tarpaulin back onto her shoulders when it
threatened to slip off because of her impetuous gestures.

They saw only a few negroes as they passed down the bayou, and these paid
no particular attention to them. Within an hour Alan had the girl safely
inside the bungalow, and was introducing her, with excited explanations,
to his astonished father and sister, who were just at that moment sitting
down to breakfast.



CHAPTER VII.


THE MERCUTIAN CAMP.


As I saw Mercer fall to the floor of the porch a sudden rage swept over
me. I struggled violently with the three men pinning me down. They
appeared very much weaker than I, but even though I could break their
holds the three of them were more than a match for me.

The man who was standing inactive, and who I realized had struck down
Mercer in some unknown, deadly way, appeared to be the leader. Once, as
one of my assailants made some move, the import of which the leader
evidently understood, but which I did not, I heard him give a sharp
command. It occurred to me then that if I offered too much resistance--if
it seemed I was likely to get away from them--I might possibly be struck
as swiftly as Mercer had been. So I gave up abruptly and lay still.

They must have understood my motive--or perhaps they felt that I was not
worth the trouble of taking alive--for immediately I stopped struggling
they unhanded me and rose to their feet.

I stood up also, deciding to appear quite docile, for the time being at
any rate, until I could comprehend better with what I had to contend.

The man who appeared to be their leader issued another command. One of
the men with whom I had been struggling immediately stepped a few feet
away, out of my reach. I knew he had been told to guard me. He kept just
that distance away thereafter, following my movements closely and seeming
never to take his eyes off me for a moment.

I had opportunity now to inspect these strange enemies more closely. The
leader was the tallest. He was about five and a half feet in height, I
judged, and fairly stocky. The others were all considerably shorter--not
much over five feet, perhaps. All were broad-framed, although not stout
to any degree approaching fatness.

From their appearance, they might all have been fairly powerful men, the
leader especially. But even the short struggle I had had with them showed
me they were not. Their bodies, too, had seemed under my grip to have a
flimsy quality, a lack of firmness, of solidity, entirely belied by their
appearance.

They were all dressed in a single rude garment of short white fur, made
all in one piece, trousers and shirt, and leaving only their arms bare.
Their feet were incased in buskins that seemed to be made of leather.
Their hair was a reddish-brown color, and fell scraggling a little below
the shoulder line.

Their skin was a curious, dead white--like the pallor of a man long in
prison. Their faces, which had no sign of hair on them, were broad, with
broad flat noses, and with abnormally large eyes that seemed to blink
stolidly with an owl-like stare.

Their leader was of somewhat different type. He was, as I have said,
nearly six inches taller than the others, and leaner and more powerful
looking. His hair was black, and his skin was not so dead white. His eyes
were not so abnormally large as those of his companions. His nose was
straight, with a high bridge. His face was hairless. It was a strong
face, with an expression of dignity about it, a consciousness of power,
and a certain sense of cruelty expressed in the firmness of his lips and
the set of his chin.

None of them was armed--or, at least, their weapons were not visible to
me.

I was much concerned about Mercer. He and the man I had hit were both
lying motionless where they had fallen. I stooped over Mercer. No one
offered to stop me, although when I moved I saw my guard make a swift
movement with his hand to his belt. My heart leaped to my throat, but
nothing happened to me, and I made a hasty examination of Mercer.

Quite evidently he was dead.

Meanwhile the Mercutians were examining their fallen comrade. He also was
dead, I judged from their actions. They left him where he was lying, and
their leader impatiently signed me toward the steps that led down from
the porch to the roadway. We started off, my guard keeping close behind
me. I noticed then how curiously hampered the Mercutians seemed to be in
their movements.

I have explained how Alan observed the effect of our earth's gravity on
Miela. It was even more marked with the Mercutians here, for she had the
assistance of wings, while they did not. The realization of this
encouraged me tremendously. I knew now that physically these enemies were
no match for me; that I could break away from them whenever I wished.

But the way in which Mercer had been killed--that I could not understand.
It was that I had to guard against. I was afraid to do anything that
would expose me to this unknown attack.

I tried to guess over how great a distance this weapon, whatever it was,
would prove effective. I assumed only a limited number of feet, although
my only reason for thinking so was my guard's evident determination to
keep close to me.

All this flashed through my mind while we were descending the steps to
the roadway. When we reached the ground we turned back toward the garage,
and with slow, plodding steps the leader of the Mercutians preceded me to
its entrance, his companions following close behind me. They had
evidently been here before, I could tell from their actions. I realized
that probably they had all been inside the garage when Mercer and I first
approached the house.

It was quite apparent now that the Mercutians did not understand the use
of either automobiles or airplanes; they poked around these as though
they were some strange, silent animals. Inside the garage I was ordered
to stand quiet, with my guard near by, while the rest of them continued
what appeared to be a search about the building.

We passed by the house, and I realized that we were starting for the
Mercutian base some four miles away. I remembered then that I was
extremely hungry and thirsty. I stopped suddenly and endeavored to
explain my wants, indicating the house as a place where I could get food.

The leader smiled. His name was Tao, I had learned from hearing his men
address him. I do not know why that smile reassured me, but it did. It
seemed somehow to make these enemies less inhuman--less supernatural--in
my mind. Indeed, I was fast losing my first fear of them, although I
still had a great respect for the way in which they had killed Mercer.

Tao told his men to wait, and motioned me toward the house. The bodies of
Mercer and the man I had struck down were still lying where they had
fallen on the porch. We found food and water in the kitchen, and I sat
down and made a meal, while Tao stood watching me. When I had finished I
put several slices of bread and meat in my coat. He signified that it was
unnecessary, but I insisted, and he smiled again and let me have my way.

Again we started off. This walk of four miles of desert that lay between
Garland and the point on the Shoshone River where the invaders were
established was about all I could manage, for I was almost exhausted. I
realized then how great an exertion the Mercutians were put to, for they
seemed nearly as tired as I. We stopped frequently to rest, and it was
well after noon when we approached the hollow through which the Shoshone
River ran.

Several times I noticed where the Mercutian Light had burned off the
scrubby desert vegetation. As we got closer I could see it now in the
sunlight, standing vertically up in the air, motionless. There were signs
all about now where the light had burned. We were passing along a little
gully--the country here was somewhat rough and broken up--when something
came abruptly from behind a rock. Its extraordinary appearance startled
me so I stared at it in amazement and fear. It came closer, and I saw it
was one of the Mercutians.

He was completely incased in a suit of dull black cloth, or rubber, or
something of the kind. On his head was a helmet of the same material,
with a mask over his face having two huge circular openings covered with
a flexible, transparent substance. On his back was a sort of tank with a
pipe leading to his mouth. He looked, indeed, something like a man in a
diving suit, and still more like the pictures I had seen of soldiers in
the World War with gas masks on. He pulled off his helmet as he came up
to us, and I saw he was similar in appearance to the red-haired
Mercutians who had captured me.

After a short conversation with Tao he went back to his station by the
rock, and we proceeded onward down the gully to the river bank. I saw a
number of Mercutians dressed this way during the afternoon. They seemed
to be guarding the approaches to the camp, and I decided later this
costume was for protection against the effects of the light-ray.

The Shoshone River was at this point about two hundred feet wide, and at
this season of the year a swift-moving, icy stream some two or three feet
deep. There were small trees at intervals along its banks. All about me
now I could see where they had been burned by the action of the light.

The vehicle in which the invaders had arrived lay on the near side of the
river, some five hundred feet below where we came out of the gully. It
was similar in appearance to the one Alan had found in Florida, only many
times larger. It lay there now, with its pyramid-shaped top pointing up
into the air, close beside the river, and gleaming a dazzling white under
the rays of the afternoon sun.

There were perhaps a hundred Mercutians in sight altogether. Most of them
were down by the vehicle; all of them were on this side of the river. In
fact, as I soon realized, it would have been difficult, if not
impossible, for them to have crossed. The desert on the opposite side of
the Shoshone was level and unbroken. It was swept clear of everything,
apparently, by the light-ray.

We turned down the river bank, and soon were close to the shining vehicle
that had brought these strange invaders from space. What would I see in
this camp of the first beings to reach earth from another planet? What
fate awaited me there? These questions hammered at my brain as we
approached the point where so much death and destruction had been dealt
out to the surrounding country.



CHAPTER VIII.


THE ESCAPE.


The Mercutians all regarded me curiously as we came among them. By the
respect they accorded Tao, and his attitude toward them, I decided he was
the leader of the entire party. I stopped, wondering what would happen
next. The man guarding me was still close at hand. Tao spoke a few words
to him and then moved away. My guard immediately sat down. I saw nothing
was required of me at the moment, and sat down also.

I had opportunity now to examine the strange things and people about me
more in detail. The Mercutians all seemed to be of the same short, squat,
red-haired type. Tao was, indeed, the only one I saw who had black hair;
and he was the tallest, and by far the most commanding looking figure of
them all.

They wore several different costumes, although the garment of white fur
was the most common. A few were dressed in the black costume of the guard
in the gully. Still others were garbed only in short, wide trousers and
shirts of a soft leather, with legs bare from the knee down, and with
leather buskins on their feet.

The light-ray was set up near the river, on a metallic structure
supporting a small platform some thirty feet above the ground. A ladder
up one side gave access to this platform from below. The light itself
came from a cubical metallic box, perhaps six feet square, suspended
above the platform in a balancing mechanism that allowed it to swing in
all directions.

All the metal of this apparatus, the projector, the platform and its
framework, was apparently of the same kind; it had the appearance of
burnished copper. The whole seemed fairly complicated, but not unlike a
huge searchlight would appear if mounted that way.

Coming out of the projector and running down to the ground were black
wires, which led to a metallic box a few feet away. This box was
rectangular in shape; six feet long, perhaps, two feet broad, and the
same in depth. I judged it to be the dynamo or battery from which the
projector was supplied with the light-ray.

A short distance back from the river I saw what appeared to be a small
mortar, which I assumed was for the sending of the light-rockets, or
bombs. Several other light-ray projectors, sections of their supporting
structures, and the unassembled parts of other apparatus, were lying
scattered about the ground. A considerable number of the Mercutians were
laboriously bringing out of the vehicle still more apparatus.

It was obvious to me then that they were only just getting started in
their offensive and defensive preparations. This I could easily
understand when I had watched for a moment the activities going on. All
of the apparatus which they were engaged in bringing out and assembling
was of metal, and it was so extremely heavy here on earth that they could
hardly handle it.

Standing on the platform beside the light-ray projector were two men
evidently in charge of it at the moment. They were dressed in black, with
black gloves, although without helmets. I noticed that they had little
pads over their ears, with wires running from them down to a small box at
the waist.

Once I saw one of them look up sharply, as though he had heard something;
and, following the wave of his hand, I saw the tiny black-garbed figure
of a man on the higher ground behind the gully through which we had come.
I reasoned then that this was a lookout stationed there, and that he was
directing the action of the light by some form of wireless telephony.

For perhaps an hour I sat there, with my guard near by watching me. I was
sorry, now that I found myself in the midst of these enemies, that I had
not made a determined effort to escape earlier in the day, when there
would have been only four of them to cope with.

I realized that I didn't know any more now about the power this guard had
over me than I had at the beginning. He certainly looked inoffensive,
sitting there, but the very calmness with which he watched me made me
feel I would be taking a desperate chance in attempting to escape. I
decided then to wait until nightfall and to watch a favorable opportunity
to break away.

Under cover of darkness, if once I could get out of their sight, I was
satisfied they would never catch me. It was my plan to strike back to
Garland. I had noticed carefully the lay of the land coming over, and
believed I could find my way back. Then, with the car or the plane that
was there in the garage, I could get back to Billings.

These thoughts were running through my mind when Tao abruptly presented
himself before me and ordered me to get up. I did so, smiling in as
friendly a fashion as I could manage. He then made me assist in the work
of carrying the heavy pieces of apparatus. Apparently he was determined
that I, as an earth man, should work hard, since the Mercutians were so
heavily handicapped by the gravity of my planet. I concluded that it
would be my best policy to help them all I could--that by so doing they
might relax a little in their watchfulness, and thus enable me to get
away that night.

I signified to Tao my understanding of what he was after, and made them
all see my entire readiness and ability to help. For the rest of the
afternoon I was dragging about from place to place, carrying the
projectors to the various positions where they had decided to put them
up. It seemed to be their plan to establish some twenty or thirty
projectors around the vehicle; they were setting them all at points about
a hundred yards away from it. These projectors differed in size and
shape. Some were cubical, others pyramid-shaped, open at the base as
though to send out the light in a spreading ray.

I saw now, when I had a chance to inspect the projectors closer, that
they were black outside and like burnished copper inside, to reflect the
light. I judged that this black covering must have been like the black
suits worn by some of the men, and that it was impervious to the
light-ray. Near the center of each projector was a coil of wire. The
wires from outside ran to it, and across the open face of the projector
a large number of fine lateral wires ran parallel, very close together.

These were about all the details I noticed. I wanted to remember them,
although they conveyed very little to me, because I realized all this I
was seeing might prove of immense help to the authorities when I got back
to Billings.

Night came, and I was still at work. Tao seemed tremendously pleased at
what I was doing, and I noticed with satisfaction that his attitude
toward me seemed gradually changing. My guard still followed me about,
but he did not watch me quite so closely now, I thought.

My help, that afternoon, was considerable. I was by far the strongest man
in the camp; and, more than that, I was able to move about so much faster
than they that I could do things in a few moments that would have taken
them many times as long.

Tao personally directed most of my efforts. He told me where to take the
things, and I took them, smilingly, and always coming back to him for new
orders. I moved so fast, indeed, that my guard had difficulty in keeping
close to me. Several times I experimented and found that I could get away
from him quite a little distance without a protest, either from him or
from Tao.

As it began to grow dark, they lighted up the camp. This was accomplished
by little metallic posts that had been set around at intervals. Each had
a tiny coil of wire suspended at its top, which became incandescent and
threw out a reddish-green light. Around each light was a square black
wire cage some three feet in diameter. I conjectured that these lights
used the same ray as the projectors, only in a different form, and that
the cage was to protect any one from going too close. The light from
these illuminators was much the same in aspect as the ray, except that it
seemed to diffuse itself readily and carried only a comparatively short
distance.

The scene now, under this red-green glare, was weird in the extreme. The
work all about me went on steadily. The Mercutians were all dressed in
white furry garments now--I concluded because of the cold--with the
exception of those who had on the suits and helmets of black.

The reddish-green light made them all appear like little gnomes at work.
Indeed, the whole scene, with its points of color in the darkness, and the
huge monstrous shadows all about, was more like some fantastic picture out
of a fairy book than a scene on this earth.

Soon after nightfall Tao stopped me, and one of his men brought me
something to eat. I still had the slices of bread and meat in my pocket,
but, thinking I might need them later on, I kept them there. Tao and I sat
down near one of the lights and ate together. We were served by one of the
men. My guard still kept close at hand.

The food was nothing more than hard pieces of baked dough and a form of
sweet something like chocolate. For drink there was a hot liquid quite
comparable to tea. This was served us in small metal cups with handles
that seemed to be insulated from the heat.

This meal was brought to us from inside the vehicle. While we were eating
I could see many of the Mercutians going inside and coming out with pieces
of this food in their hands, eating as they worked. Quite obviously the
business of assembling their apparatus was uppermost in the minds of all
of them.

The whole atmosphere about the place, I realized now, in spite of the
opposite effect their dragging footsteps gave, was one of feverish
activity. When we had eaten Tao seemed willing to sit quiet for a while.
My efforts to talk to him amused us both greatly, and I noticed with
satisfaction that he seemed to trust me more and more.

Finally my guard spoke, asking permission, I judged, to leave us and go
have his dinner. My heart leaped into my throat as I saw him go, leaving
me alone with Tao. I concluded that now, if ever, was my opportunity. Tao
trusted me--seemed to like me, in fact. No one else in the camp was paying
the least attention to us. If only I could, on some pretext, get myself a
reasonable distance away from him I would make a run for it.

I was turning this problem over in my mind when it was unexpectedly solved
for me. A low throbbing, growing momentarily louder, sounded from the
air--the hum of an airplane motor. I think Tao noticed it first--I saw him
cock his head to one side, listening.

After a moment, as the sound increased, he climbed to his feet and shouted
an order to the man nearest us.

The night had clouded over; it was unusually dark. I knew that a plane
without lights was approaching. Work about the camp stopped; every one
stood listening. I looked up at the light-ray platform. The two men there
were swinging the light back and forth, sweeping the sky.

Suddenly the sound ceased; the plane's motor had been shut off. Almost at
the same instant the light-ray picked up the plane. It was several
thousand feet in the air and almost over our heads, coming down in a
spiral. A moment more and the light-ray swung away.

The plane burst into flame, and I knew it was falling. An explosion
sounded near at hand. The camp was in chaos immediately. I faced about to
look at Tao; he had disappeared.

I waited no longer. Turning back from the river, I ran at full speed.



CHAPTER IX.


FUTILE ATTACKS.


There seemed to be no pursuit. In a few moments I was clear of the camp
and hidden in the darkness of the desert. I ran perhaps half a mile, then
I slowed down to a walk, completely winded. Turning, I could see behind me
the lights of the camp. I doubted if even now they had missed me. The bomb
dropped by the airplane and the plane itself falling almost, in their
midst must have plunged them for the time into confusion.

I kept on walking rapidly. The desert here was almost pathless;
occasionally I would cross a wandering wagon track, but none of them
seemed going in my direction. After a time I was not sure what my
direction was; all about me was a luminous darkness--and silence.

I found myself now almost exhausted from my exertions of the day. I
decided to go possibly a mile farther--to be well away from the
Mercutians--and then to lie down and sleep until daylight.

In about fifteen minutes more I concluded I had gone far enough, and,
lying down on the sand, was soon fast asleep. When I awoke it was
daylight, with the sun just rising.

With returning consciousness I looked about me in sudden fear, but there
was no one in sight. I ate the bread and meat I had in my pocket, and,
feeling much refreshed, but thirsty, I started again for Garland.

I made the town soon after noon that day. The little automobile was still
standing in the garage, and I started it without trouble. Before I left I
went up to the porch of the house.

The bodies of Mercer and the Mercutian were still lying there. I dragged
Mercer's body down the steps and put it into the back seat of the car
Then I started off. I stuck to the main road, and went through Mantua at
top speed, apprehensive that some of the Mercutians might be there. This
town, like Garland, was completely burned. Only the chimneys were left
standing amid piles of ashes.

At Frannie I took on two passengers. There was much curiosity on the part
of those I met along here, but I was unwilling to explain, deciding it
best to wait and tell my whole story to the military authorities at
Billings.

It was early afternoon when I got back to Billings. This was March 12. I
turned Mercer's body over to the police, who promptly took me in charge. I
gave them a brief outline of what had occurred. General Price, whose
command of the United States military operations against the Mercutians
was announced to the country two days later, had arrived that morning in
Billings by airplane. I demanded to see him, and when my business was
explained to him he granted me an immediate interview.

General Price was a man about fifty, a kindly gentleman of the old
Southern type, yet of thoroughly military demeanor. I told him everything
that had happened to me in detail as complete as I possibly could.
Mercer's body was examined that same afternoon. It was found to have been
drilled completely through the chest by a hole about the diameter of a
lead pencil. This hole did not seem to have been made by the passage of
any foreign object, but had more the aspect of a burn. I understood
then--Mercer had been killed by a tiny light-ray projector, with a short,
effective radius, aimed probably like a revolver.

What I was able to tell General Price about the Mercutians naturally was
invaluable to him. He asked me then to remain close to him during the
forthcoming operations. We arranged that I was on honor to give nothing
out to my paper without his approval.

The situation, as it appeared during the next few days, was not one of
grave danger. We were able to gage now with fair probability of
correctness the offensive strength of our enemies. They had no means of
transportation--could only move from their present position slowly and
with extreme difficulty. The possibility of the vehicle itself moving
occurred to us; but, as I pointed out, the task of replacing their heavy
apparatus in it, and then reassembling the apparatus in a new position,
made such a step impractical.

The only weapon the Mercutians had displayed so far was the light-ray in
its several forms. This seemed effective for ten miles at most. That the
Mercutians could be attacked by our artillery and destroyed seemed
certain.

By the 20th General Price had mobilized some ten thousand men. They
encamped on the prairie near Billings. The artillery was moved down to a
point near the Wyoming State line, about fifteen miles directly north of
the Mercutian camp.

Six days before this, forty-eight hours after I had returned to Billings,
observation planes had reported the establishment of two more light-rays,
similar in appearance to the first. During the succeeding days others
rapidly appeared. By the 20th there were probably thirty of them
altogether.

The reports stated that all were set up within a space seemingly of a few
hundred yards. They were of different diameters; some projected in
parallel rays, others spread out fan-shaped. These latter appeared not to
carry so far. The first one that had appeared, it was judged, had the
longest effective radius of them all.

During these days and nights preceding the 20th the light-rockets had been
fired with increasing frequency, but none was observed to carry over six
or eight miles. By this time the burned area for a circle of ten miles all
around the Mercutian camp was entirely depopulated, and no additional
destruction was reported.

On the night of the 20th, firing by directions from captive balloons, the
United States artillery began its bombardment from the Montana-Wyoming
line. After sending over some twenty shells, the firing ceased. It was
learned then that they had proven utterly ineffective. The diverging rays
of the Mercutian light had thrown a barrage around their position. The
shells striking the light had all exploded harmlessly in the air.

Subsequent bombardments made that night met with no better success. The
fact became obvious then that to artillery fire the Mercutians were
impregnable. For several days no further military operations were
attempted, with the exception of an occasional shell futilely thrown
against the light-rays.

The newspapers during these days were full of discussions--scientific and
otherwise--as to how this strange enemy of mankind could be destroyed or
dislodged. This was like no other warfare in history. The newspaper
statements gave the inference that General Price was entirely at a loss
how to proceed.

As a matter of fact, the press was quite correct in that assumption; and,
since the Mercutians were making no offensive moves, General Price decided
to do nothing until he was better informed.

I was fortunate enough to be present the next day at a conference the
general had with several scientific men who had come to Billings to meet
him. It was the opinion of these men of science that no artillery fire
could penetrate the light-barrage the Mercutians had thrown about them. No
airplane attack was practical, and to attack them from the ground with
infantry would be absurd.

On the other hand, it seemed obvious that the Mercutians could make no
offensive move either. They had probably already done all the damage that
they could. If matters were allowed to remain as they now were--thus
avoiding the useless sacrifice of men--inevitably the time would come when
the food supply the Mercutians had brought with them would be exhausted.
Meanwhile, if the invaders decided to move in their vehicle to another
location, they could not do so suddenly without abandoning their
apparatus.

Any lessening in the number of light-rays in operation could be taken as
an indication that a move of this kind was in preparation, and the warning
would give General Price time to execute any attack that in the meantime
might be planned.

It was decided then to remain comparatively inactive and await
developments from the opposite side.

During the three months that followed this decision artillery bases were
located at intervals on a circumference of about fifteen miles around the
Mercutian center. These were all on desert country. Lines of communication
between them were established, and the air above was thoroughly patrolled
night and day.

The ten thousand men under General Price it was not thought necessary or
advisable to augment. They were deployed around this circumference in
front of the artillery, nearer the ten-mile limit. Machine-gun outposts,
manned by volunteers exclusively, were established in Garland, Mantua and
other points within the area controlled by the light. These were for the
purpose of preventing, or reporting, any possible movements on foot of the
Mercutians.

During this time the government was, naturally, subjected to much harsh
criticism for its waiting attitude. It was suggested that armored
tanks--relics of the World War--could be put into commission. These, under
cover of darkness, could be used to rush the Mercutian position. This
obviously was an absurd plan, since the light-ray would instantly raise
the temperature of the metal composing the car to such a height that the
men inside would be killed--not to mention the fact that all explosives
in the car would be instantly detonated.

Another suggestion was that a night raid be made upon the outposts of the
camp by a few men armed with machine guns fired from the shoulder, in an
effort to capture one of the Mercutians garbed in a suit impervious to the
light. With this suit even one man with a machine gun would probably be
able to clean out the Mercutian camp.

This plan evoked much favorable comment. This black material, once in our
possession, could be analyzed and possibly be duplicated in quantity by
us. It seemed the logical way of making progress.

But, unfortunately, conditions around the Mercutian camp at present were
not the same as that night when I escaped. At that time it would have been
feasible; now it was impossible, for all the invaders were within the
small circle of projectors, and the ground outside this circle was never
free from the diverging rays of the light. Also, as one newspaper article
replied, even with such a suit of armor a man with a machine gun could do
little, for the light would instantly render useless the gun itself.

So the controversy went on, and General Price waited, knowing that each
day must bring the enemy nearer starvation. Such was the condition of
affairs in the latter part of June.

Then, one morning, I received a telegram from Alan Newland in Florida. I
had been corresponding with him at intervals, but he had never given me a
hint of what had happened down there.

The telegram read:

    Important Mercutian development here.
    Keep absolutely secret. Join us here at once.
    Answer.

I wired him immediately. Three days later I was at Bay Head.



CHAPTER X.


MIELA'S STORY.


When I reached the little Florida town Alan was there to meet me. He would
have none of my eager questions, but took me at once by launch to their
bungalow. No one was on the porch when we landed, and we went immediately
into the living room. There I found Beth and Professor Newland talking to
this extraordinary girl from another world, of whose existence, up to that
moment, I had been in complete ignorance. She was dressed especially for
my coming, they told me afterward, exactly as she had been that morning
when Alan found her. They wanted to confound me, and they succeeded.

I stood staring in amazement while Beth quietly introduced me. And Miela
spread her wings, curtsied, and replied in a quaint, soft little voice: "I
am honored, sir." Then she laughed prettily and, extending her hand,
added: "How do you do, Bob--my friend?"

When I had partially recovered from my astonishment Miela put on the big
blue-cloth cape she wore constantly to cover her wings. Then Alan and Beth
plunged into an excited explanation of how he had found Miela, and how all
this time she had remained in seclusion with them there studying their
language.

"You never have seen such assiduous young people," Professor Newland put
in. "And certainly she has been a wonderful pupil."

He patted Miela's hand affectionately; but I noticed then that his eyes
were very sad, as though from some unvoiced trouble or apprehension.

They had decided, the professor said, to keep the girl's presence a secret
from the world until they had learned from her in detail what her mission
was. The vehicle in which she had come was still on the island up the
bayou. Alan had stationed there three young men of Bay Head whom he could
trust. They were living on the island, guarding it.

During these two months while Miela, with uncanny rapidity, was mastering
their language, the Newlands had of course learned from her all she had to
tell them. The situation in Wyoming did not necessitate haste on their
part, and so they had waited. And now, with a decision reached, they sent
for me.

That evening after supper we all went out on the bungalow porch, and Miela
told me her story. She spoke quietly, with her hands clasped nervously in
her lap. At times in her narrative her eyes shone with the eager, earnest
sincerity of her words; at others they grew big and troubled as she spoke
of the problems that were harassing her world and mine--the inevitable
self-struggles of humanity, whatever its environment, itself its own worst
enemy.

"I am daughter of Lua," Miela began slowly, "of the Great City in the
Country of Light. My mother, Lua, is a teacher of the people. My father,
Thaal, died when still I was a child. I--I came to your earth--"

She paused and, turning to Beth, added appealingly: "Oh, there is so
much--to begin--how can I tell--"

"Tell him about Tao," Beth said.

"Tao!" I exclaimed.

"He leads those who came to your earth in the north," Miela went on. "He
was my"--she looked to Alan for the word--"my suitor there in the Great
City. He wished me for his wife--for the mother of his children. But
that--that was not what I wished."

"You'd better tell him about conditions in your world first, Miela," said
Alan. He spoke very gently, tenderly.

I had already seen, during supper, how he felt toward her; I could readily
understand it, too, for, next to Beth, she seemed the most adorable woman
I had ever met. There was nothing unusually strange about her, when her
wings were covered, except her quaint accent and sometimes curious
gestures; and no one could be with her long without feeling the sweet
gentleness of her nature and loving her for it.

"Tell him about your women," Beth added.

I noticed the affectionate regard she also seemed to have for Miela; and I
noticed, too, that there was in her face that vague look of sorrow that
was in her father's.

The habitable world of Mercury, Miela then went on to tell me, was divided
into three zones--light, twilight and darkness. There was no direct
sunlight in the Light Country--only a diffused daylight like the light on
our earth when the sky is clouded over. The people of the Light Country,
Miela's people, were the most civilized and the ruling race.

In the twilight zone around them, grading back to the Dark Country,
various other peoples dwelt, and occasionally warred with their neighbors
for possession of land in the light.

In the center of the Light Country, directly underneath the sun--that is,
where the sun, would always appear near the zenith--was the Fire Country.
Here, owing to violent storms, the atmospheric envelope of the planet was
frequently disturbed sufficiently to allow passage for the sun's direct
rays. Then would ensue in that locality, for a limited time, a heat so
intense as to destroy life. This Fire Country was practically uninhabited.

"You see, Bob," Alan interrupted, "the dark part of Mercury--that is the
side that continually faces away from the sun--is also practically
uninhabited. Only strange animals and savages live there. And the twilight
zones, and the ring of Light Country, with the exception of its center,
are too densely populated. This has caused an immense amount of trouble.
The Twilight People are an inferior race. They have tried to mix with
those of the Light Country. It doesn't work. There's been trouble for
generations; trouble over the women, for one thing. Anyhow, the Twilight
People have been kept out as much as possible. Now this fellow Tao--"

"Let Miela explain about the women first," Beth interjected.

Then Miela went on to tell me that only the females of Mercury had
wings--given them by the Creator as a protection against the pursuit of
the male. At marriage, to insure submission to the will of her husband, a
woman's wings were clipped. For more than a generation now there had been
a growing rebellion on the part of the women against this practice. In
this movement Miela's mother, Lua, was a leader. To overcome this
masculine desire for physical superiority and dominance which he had had
for centuries seemed practically impossible. Yet, Miela said, the leaders
of the women now felt that some progress was being made in changing public
sentiment, although so far not a single man had been found who would take
for mate a woman with wings unclipped.

This was partly from personal pride and partly because the laws of the
country made such a union illegal, its parties moral outlaws, its children
illegitimate, and thus not entitled to the government benefits bestowed
upon all offspring of legitimate parentage. It was this man-made law the
women were fighting, and of recent years fighting more and more
militantly.

This was the situation when Tao suddenly projected himself into public
affairs as the leader of a new movement. Tao had paid court to Miela
without success. He was active in the fight against the woman movement--a
brilliant orator, crafty, unscrupulous, a good leader. Leadership was to
him purely a matter of personal gain. He felt no deep, sincere interest in
any public movement for any other reason.

Interplanetary communication had become of latter years a possibility;
science had invented and perfected the means. So far these vehicles had
only been used for short trips to the outer edge of the atmosphere of
Mercury--trips that were giving scientific men much valuable knowledge of
atmospheric conditions, and which it was thought would ultimately enable
them to counteract the storms and make the Fire Country habitable. No
trips into space had been made.

Tao now came forward with the proposition to undertake a new world
conquest--a conquest of Venus or the earth. These planets recently had
been observed from the vehicles. This, he said, would solve the land
question, which, after all, was more serious than the clipping of women's
wings.

He found many followers--adventurers, principally, to whom the
possibilities for untold personal gain in such a conquest appealed. Then
abruptly the women took part. Dropping for the time their own fight, they
opposed Tao vigorously. If Venus or the earth were inhabited, as it was
thought they were, such an expedition would be a war against humanity. It
would result in the needless destruction of human life.

In this controversy the government of the Light Country remained neutral.
But the women finally won, and Tao and his followers, a number of them men
of science, were all banished by the government, under pressure of popular
sentiment, into the Twilight Country.

Here Tao's project fell upon fertile soil. The Twilight People had every
reason to undertake such a conquest; and Tao became their leader in
preparing for it. These preparations were known in the Light Country. The
government made no effort to prevent them. It was, indeed, rather glad of
the possibility of being rid of its disturbing neighbors.

Only the women were concerned, but they alone could do nothing, since by
principle they were as much opposed to offensive warfare against the
Twilight People as against the possible inhabitants of the earth. Miela
paused at this point in her narrative. The thing was getting clearer to me
now, but I could not reconcile this feeble attempt to conquer the earth
which we were then fighting in Wyoming with the picture she drew. I said
so.

"She hasn't come to that," Alan broke in. "You see, Bob, Tao, with about a
hundred followers, was banished to the Twilight Country a couple of years
ago. There was plenty of brains in the party, scientific men and such.
They had only one vehicle, but they have been at work ever since building
a lot of others.

"This expedition of Tao to Wyoming--with only about a hundred of the
Twilight People with him--is not intended to be an offensive operation at
all. He's only looking the situation over, finding out what they're up
against. They decided before they started that the light-ray would protect
them from anything on earth, and they have only come to look around.

"Right now up there"--Alan leaned forward earnestly, and in the moonlight
I could see the flush on his handsome face--"right now up there in the
Twilight Country of Mercury they're working their damnedest over all kinds
of preparations. This Wyoming business this summer does not mean a thing
Tao will quit it any minute. You'll see. Some morning we'll wake up and
find them gone. Probably they'll destroy their apparatus, and not bother
to take it back.

"And then, in a year or two, they'll be here again. Not one vehicle next
time, but a hundred. They'll land all over the earth at once, not on a
desert--Tao probably only picked that this time to avoid
complications--but in our big cities, New York, Paris, London, all of them
at once. That's what we've got to face.

"If Tao comes back as he plans, we have not got a chance. That's why Miela
stole this little vehicle and, without it being publicly known in Mercury,
came here to warn us. That's what she was after, to help us, risked her
life to warn us people of another world."

Alan stopped abruptly, and, dropping to the floor of the porch beside
Miela, laid his arm across her lap, looking up into her face as though she
were a goddess. She stroked his hair tenderly, and I could see her eyes
were wet with tears.

There was a moment's silence. I could not have known what Professor
Newland and Beth were thinking, but a moment later I understood.

Then I realized the sorrow that was oppressing them both.

"What can be done?" I asked finally.

Alan jumped to his feet. He began pacing up and down the porch before us;
evidently he was laboring under a great nervous excitement.

"There's nothing to be done," he said--"nothing at all--here on earth. We
have not got a chance. It's up there the thing has got to be fought
out--up there on Mercury--to keep them from returning."

Alan paused again. When he resumed his voice was pitched lower, but was
very tense.

"I'm going there, Bob--with Miela."

I heard Professor Newland's sharply indrawn breath, and saw Beth's dear
face suddenly whiten.

"I'm going there to fight it out with them. I may come back; I may not.
But if I am successful, _they_ never will--which is all that matters.

"Miela's mother gave her up to come down here and help us. It is a little
thing to go back there to help us, also. If I can help her people with
their own problems, so much the better."

He pulled Miela to her feet beside him and put his arm protectingly about
her shoulders.

"And Miela is going back to her world as my wife--her body
unmutilated--the first married woman in Mercury with wings as God gave
them to her!"



CHAPTER XI.


TO SAVE THE WORLD.


Two days later Alan and Miela were quietly married in Bay Head. She still
wore the long cloak, and no one could have suspected she was other than a
beautiful stranger in the little community. When we got back home Alan
immediately made her take off the cloak. He wanted us to admire her
wings--to note their long, soft red feathers as she extended them, the
symbol and the tangible evidence of her freedom from male dominance.

She was as sweet about it all as she could be, blushing, as though to
expose the wings, now that she was married, were immodest. And by the way
she regarded Alan, by the gentleness and love in her eyes, I could see she
would never be above the guidance, the dominance, of one man, at least.

The day before their marriage Alan had taken me up the bayou to see the
little silver car in which Miela had come. I was intensely curious to
learn the workings of this strange vehicle. As soon as we were inside I
demanded that Alan explain it all to me in detail.

He smiled.

"That's the remarkable part of it, Bob," he answered. "Miela herself
didn't thoroughly understand either the basic principle or the mechanism
itself when she started down here."

"Good Lord! And she ventured--"

"Tao was already on the point of leaving when she conceived the idea. He
had already made one trip almost to the edge of the earth's atmosphere,
you know, and now was ready to start again."

"That first trip was last November," I said. "Tell me about that. What
were those first light-meteors for?"

"As far as I can gather from what Miela says," Alan answered, "Tao wanted
to make perfectly sure the light-ray would act in our atmosphere. He
came--there were several vehicles they had ready even then--without other
apparatus than those meteors, as we called them. Those he dropped to earth
with the light-ray stored in them. They did discharge it properly--they
seemed effective. The thing was merely a test. Tao was satisfied, and went
back to arrange for this second preliminary venture in which he is engaged
now."

"I understand," I said. "Go on about Miela."

"Well, she and her mother went before the Scientific Society, she calls
it--the men who own and control these vehicles in the Light Country. They
called it suicide. No one could be found to come with her. Lua, her
mother, wanted to, but Miela would not let her take the risk, saying she
was needed more there in her own world.

"As a matter of fact, the thing, while difficult perhaps to understand in
principle, in operation works very simply. Miela knew that, and merely
asked them to show her how to operate it practically. This they did. She
spent two days with them--she learns things rather easily, you know--and
then she was ready."

I waited in amazement.

"For practical purposes all she had to understand was the operation of
these keys. The pressure of the light-ray in these coils"--he was standing
beside a row of wire coils which in the semidarkness I had not noticed
before--"is controlled by the key-switches." He indicated the latter as he
spoke. "They send a current to the outer metal plates of the car which
makes them repel or attract other masses of matter, as desired.

"All that Miela had to understand then was how to operate these keys so as
to keep the base of the vehicle headed toward the earth. They took her to
the outer edge of the atmosphere of Mercury over the Dark Country and
showed her the earth. They have used terrestrial telescopes for
generations, and since the invention of this vehicle telescopes for
celestial observation have been greatly improved.

"All Miela had to do was keep the air in here purified. That is a simple
chemical operation. By using this attractive and repellent force she
allowed the earth's gravity and the repelling power of the sun and Mercury
to drive her here."

He paused.

"But, doesn't she--don't you understand the thing in detail?" I asked
finally.

"I think father and I understand it now better than she does," he
answered. "We have studied it out here and questioned her as closely as
possible. We understand its workings pretty thoroughly. But the exact
nature of the light-ray we do not understand, any more than we understand
electricity. Nor do we understand this metallic substance which when
charged with the current becomes attractive or repellent in varying
degrees."

"Yes," I said. "That I can appreciate."

"Father has a theory about the light-ray," he went on, "which seems rather
reasonable from what we can gather from Miela. The thing seems more like
electricity than anything else, and father thinks now that it is generated
by dynamos on Mercury, similar to those we use here for electricity."

"Along that line," I said, "can you explain why this light-ray, which will
immediately set anything on fire that is combustible, and which acts
through metal, like those artillery shells, for instance, does not seem to
raise the temperature of the ground it strikes to any extent?"

"Because, like electricity, it is dissipated the instant it strikes the
ground. The earth is an inexhaustible storehouse and receptacle for such a
force. That is why the broken country around the Shoshone River protected
Garland and Mantua from its direct rays."

"Tell me about the details of this mechanism," I said, reverting to our
original subject. "You say you understand its workings pretty thoroughly
now."

"Yes, I do," he admitted, "and so does father. But I cannot go into it now
with you. You see," he added hastily, as though he feared to hurt my
feelings, "the scientific men of Mercury--some of them--objected to
Miela's coming, on the ground that the inhabitants of the earth, obtaining
from her a knowledge that would enable them to voyage through space, might
take advantage of that knowledge to undertake an invasion of Mercury.

"As a matter of fact, that was a remote possibility. I could explain to
you all I know about this mechanism without much danger of your ever being
able to build such a car. But Miela promised them that she would use all
possible precautions, in the event of her having any choice in the matter,
to prevent the earth people learning anything about it.

"Father and I have examined everything here closely. But no one else
has--and I am sure Miela would prefer no one else did. You understand,
Bob?"

I did understand; and of course I had to be satisfied with that.

"It seems to me," I said when, later in the day, we were discussing
affairs in Wyoming, "that with things in Mercury as we now know they are,
it would help the situation tremendously if Tao and these Twilight People
with him were prevented from ever returning."

"That's my idea exactly," Professor Newland agreed.

I could see by the look on his face he was holding on to this thought as a
possibility that might make Alan's plan unnecessary.

"I've thought about it constantly," the professor said, "ever since these
facts first came to us through Miela. It would be important. With his
expedition here a total failure, I think we might assume that nothing more
would be done up there in attempting to conquer the earth. I've tried to
make Alan see that we should give the authorities all the information we
have. It might help--something might be accomplished--"

"Nothing would, father," Alan interrupted. "There wouldn't be time. And
even if this expedition of Tao's were destroyed, I don't see why that's
any guarantee another attempt would not be made. Miela doesn't, either,
and she ought to know.

"Besides, don't you see, Bob"--he turned to me earnestly--"I can't have
the eyes of the world turned on Miela and her affairs? Why, think of
it--this little woman sent to Washington, questioned, photographed,
written about, made sport of, perhaps, in the newspapers! And all for
nothing. It is unthinkable."

"You may be right, my boy," said the professor sadly. "I am giving in to
you, but I still--"

"The thing has come to me," said Alan. "A duty--a responsibility put
squarely up to me. I've accepted it. I'll do my best all the way."

A week after Alan and Miela were married the report came that the
Mercutians had suddenly departed, abandoning, after partly destroying,
their apparatus. The world for a few days was in trepidation, fearing a
report that they had landed somewhere else, but no such report came.

Three days later Alan and Miela followed them into space.

Professor Newland, Beth and I went up the bayou with them that morning
they left. We were a solemn little party, none of us seemingly wishing to
voice the thoughts that possessed us all.

Professor Newland never spoke once during the trip. When the moment of
final parting came he kissed Miela quietly, and, pressing Alan's hand,
said simply: "Good luck, my boy. We appreciate what you are doing for us.
Come back, some day, if you can."

Then he faced about abruptly and trudged back to the launch alone, as
pathetic a figure as I have ever seen. We all exchanged our last good-bys,
little Beth in tears clinging to Alan, and then kissing Miela and making
her promise some day to come back with Alan when he had accomplished his
mission.

Then they entered the vehicle. Its heavy door closed. A moment later it
rose silently--slowly at first, then with increasing velocity until we
could see it only as a little speck in the air above us. And then it was
gone.



CHAPTER XII.


THE LANDING ON MERCURY.


_(Narrative continued by Alan Newland.)_


With hardly more than a perceptible tremor our strange vehicle came to
rest upon the surface of Mercury. For a moment Miela and I stood regarding
each other silently. Then she left her station at the levers of the
mechanism and placed her hands gently on my shoulders. "You are welcome,
my husband, here to my world."

I kissed her glowing, earnest face. We had reached our journey's end. My
work was about to begin--upon my own efforts now depended the salvation of
that great world I had left behind. What difficulties, what dangers, would
I have to face, here among the people of this strange planet? I thrilled
with awe at the thought of it; and I prayed God then to hold me firm and
steadfast to my purpose.

Miela must have divined my thoughts, for she said simply: "You will have
great power here, Alan; and it is in my heart that you will succeed."

We slid back one of the heavy metallic curtains and looked out through the
thick glass of the window. It was daylight--a diffused daylight like that
of a cloudy midday on my own earth. An utterly barren waste met my gaze.
We seemed to have landed in a narrow valley. Huge cliffs rose on both
sides to a height of a thousand feet or more.

These cliffs, as well as the floor of the valley itself, shone with a
brilliant glare, even in the half light of the sunless day. They were not
covered with soil, but seemed rather to be almost entirely metallic,
copper in color. The whole visible landscape was devoid of any sign of
vegetation, nor was there a single living thing in sight.

I shuddered at the inhospitable bleakness of it.

"Where are we, Miela?"

She smiled at my tone. It was my first sight of Mercury except vague,
distant glimpses of its surface through the mist coming down.

"You do not like my world?"

She was standing close beside me, and at her smiling words raised one of
her glorious red wings and spread it behind me as though for protection.
Then, becoming serious once more, she answered my question.

"We are fortunate, Alan. It is the Valley of the Sun, in the Light
Country. I know it well. We are very close to the Great City."

I breathed a sigh of relief.

"I'll leave it all to you, little wife. Shall we start at once?"

Her hand pressed mine.

"I shall lead you now," she said. "But afterward--_you_ it will be who
leads _me_--who leads us all."

She crossed to the door fastenings. As she loosed them I remember I heard
a slight hissing sound. Before I could reach her she slid back the door. A
great wave of air rushed in upon us, sweeping us back against the wall. I
clutched at something for support, but the sweep of wind stopped almost at
once.

I had stumbled to my knees. "Miela!" I cried in terror.

She was beside me in an instant, wide-eyed with fear, which even then I
could see was fear only for me.

I struggled to my feet. My head was roaring. All the blood in my body
seemed rushing to my face.

After a moment I felt better. Miela pulled me to a seat.

"I did not think, Alan. The pressure of the air is different here from
your world. It was so wrong of me, for I knew. It was so when I landed
there on your earth."

I had never thought to ask her that, nor had she ever spoken of it to me.
She went on now to tell me how, when first she had opened the door on that
little Florida island, all the air about her seemed rushing away. She had
felt then as one feels transported quickly to the rarified atmosphere of a
great height.

Here the reverse had occurred. We had brought with us, and maintained, an
air density such as that near sea level on earth. But here on Mercury the
air was far denser, and its pressure had rushed in upon us instantly the
door was opened. Miela had been affected to a much less extent than I, and
in consequence recovered far more quickly.

The feeling, after the first nausea, the pressure and pain in my ears and
the roaring in my head, had passed away. A sense of heaviness, an
inability to breathe with accustomed freedom, remained with me for days.

We sat quiet for some minutes, and then left the vehicle. Miela was
dressed now as I had first seen her on the Florida bayou. As we stepped
upon the ground she suddenly tore the veil from her breast, spread her
wings, and, with a laugh of sheer delight, flew rapidly up into the air. I
stood watching her, my heart beating fast. Up--up she went into the gray
haze of the sky. Then I could see her spread her great wings, motionless,
a giant bird soaring over the valley.

A few moments more, and she was again beside me, alighting on the tip of
one toe with perfect poise and grace almost within reach of my hand.

I do not quite know what feelings possessed me at that moment. Perhaps it
was a sense of loss as I saw this woman I loved fly away into the air
while I remained chained to the ground. I cannot tell. But when she came
back, dropping gently down beside me, ethereal and beautiful as an angel
from heaven itself, a sudden rush of love swept over me.

I crushed her to me, glorying in the strength of my arms and the frailness
of her tender little body.

When I released her she looked up into my eyes archly.

"You do not like me to fly? Your wife is free--and, oh, Alan, it is so
good--so good to be back here again where I _can_ fly."

She laughed at my expression.

"You are a man, too--like all the men of my world. That is the feeling you
came here to conquer, Alan--so that the women here may all keep their
wings--and be free."

I think I was just a little ashamed of myself for a moment. But I knew my
feeling had been only human. I _did_ want her to fly, to keep those
beautiful wings. And in that moment they came to represent not only her
freedom, but my trust in her, my very love itself.

I stroked their sleek red feathers gently with my hand.

"I shall never feel that way again, Miela," I said earnestly.

She laughed once more and kissed me, and the look in her eyes told me she
understood.

The landscape, from this wider viewpoint, seemed even more bleak and
desolate than before. The valley was perhaps half a mile broad, and wound
away upward into a bald range of mountains in the distance.

The ground under my feet was like a richly metallic ore. In places it was
wholly metal, smooth and shining like burnished copper. Below us the
valley broadened slightly, falling into what I judged must be open country
where lay the city of our destination.

For some minutes I stood appalled at the scene. I had often been in the
deserts of America, but never have I felt so great a sense of desolation.
Always before it had been the lack of water that made the land so arid;
and always the scene seemed to hold promise of latent fertility, as though
only moisture were needed to make it spring into fruition.

Nothing of the kind was evident here. There was, indeed, no lack of water.
I could see a storm cloud gathering in the distance. The air I was
breathing seemed unwarrantably moist; and all about me on the ground
little pools remained from the last rainfall. But here there was no soil,
not so much even as a grain of sand seemed to exist. The air was warm, as
warm as a midsummer's day in my own land, a peculiarly oppressive, moist
heat.

I had been prepared for this by Miela. I was bareheaded, since there never
was to be direct sunlight. My feet were clad in low shoes with rubber
soles. I wore socks. For the rest, I had on simply one of my old pairs of
short, white running pants and a sleeveless running shirt. With the
exception of the shoes it was exactly the costume I had worn in the races
at college.

I had been standing motionless, hardly more than a step from the car in
which we had landed. Suddenly, in the midst of my meditations on the
strange scene about me, Miela said: "Go there, Alan."

She was smiling and pointing to a little rise of ground near by. I looked
at her blankly.

"Jump, Alan," she added.

The spot to which she pointed was perhaps forty feet away. I knew what she
meant, and, stepping back a few paces, came running forward and leaped
into the air. I cleared the intervening space with no more effort than I
could have jumped less than half that distance on earth.

Miela flew over beside me.

"You see, Alan, my husband, it is not so bad, perhaps, that I can fly."

She was smiling whimsically, but I could see her eyes were full of pride.

"There is no other man on Mercury who could do that, Alan," she added.

I tried successive leaps then, always with the same result. I calculated
that here the pull of gravity must be something less than one-half that on
the earth. It was far more than father had believed.

Miela watched my antics, laughing and clapping her hands with delight. I
found I tired very quickly--that is, I was winded. This I attributed to
the greater density of the air I was breathing.

In five minutes I was back at Miela's side, panting heavily.

"If I can--ever get so I breathe right--" I said.

She nodded. "A very little time, I think."

I sat down for a moment to recover my breath. Miela explained then that we
were some ten miles from the fertile country surrounding the city in which
her mother lived, and about fifteen miles from the outskirts of the city
itself. I give these distances as they would be measured on earth. We
decided to start at once. We took nothing with us. The journey would be a
short one, and we could easily return at some future time for what we had
left behind. We needed no food for so short a trip, and plenty of water
was at hand.

Only one thing Miela would not part with--the single memento she had
brought from earth to her mother. She refused to let me touch it, but
insisted on carrying it herself, guarding it jealously.

It was Beth's little ivory hand mirror!

We started off. Miela had wound the filmy scarf about her shoulders again
with a pretty little gesture.

"I need not use wings, Alan, when I am with you. We shall go together, you
and I--on the ground."

And then, as I started off vigorously, she added plaintively from behind
me: "If--if you will go slow, my husband, or will wait for me."

I altered my pace to suit hers. I had quite recovered my breath now, and
for the moment felt that I could carry her much faster than she could
walk. I did gather her into my arms once, and ran forward briskly, while
she laughed and struggled with me to be put down. She seemed no more than
a little child in my arms; but, as before, the heavy air so oppressed me
that in a few moments I was glad enough to set her again upon her feet.

The valley broadened steadily as we advanced. For several miles the look
of the ground remained unchanged. I wondered what curious sort of metal
this might be--so like copper in appearance. I doubted if it were copper,
since even in this hot, moist air it seemed to have no property of
oxidation.

I asked Miela about it, and she gave me its Mercutian name at once; but of
course that helped me not a bit. She added that outcroppings of it, almost
in the pure state, like the great deposits of native copper I had seen on
earth, occurred in many parts of Mercury.

I remembered then Bob Trevor's mention of it as the metal of the apparatus
used by the invaders of Wyoming.

We went on three or four miles without encountering a single sign of life.
No insects stirred underfoot; no birds flew overhead. We might have
been--by the look of it--alone on a dead planet.

"Is none of your mountain country inhabited, Miela?" I asked.

She shook her head.

"Only on the plains do people live. There is very little of good land in
the Light Country, and so many people. That it is which has caused much
trouble in the past. It is for that, many times, the Twilight People have
made war upon us."

I found myself constantly able to breathe more easily. Our progress down
the valley seemed now irritatingly slow, for I felt I could walk or run
three times faster than Miela. Finally I suggested to her that she fly,
keeping near me; and that I would make the best speed forward I could. She
stared at me quizzically. Then, seeing I was quite sincere, she flung her
little arms up about my neck and pulled me down to kiss her.

"Oh, Alan--the very best husband in all the universe, you are. None other
could there be--like you."

She had just taken off her scarf again when suddenly I noticed a little
speck in the sky ahead. It might have been a tiny bird, flying toward us
from the plains below.

"Miela--look!"

She followed the direction of my hand. The speck grew rapidly larger.

"A girl, Alan," she said after a moment. "Let us wait."

We stood silent, watching. It was indeed a girl, flying over the valley
some two or three hundred feet above the ground. As she came closer I saw
her wings were blue, not red like Miela's. She came directly toward us.

Suddenly Miela gave a little cry.

"Anina! Anina!"

Without a word to me she spread her wings and flew up to meet the oncoming
girl.

I stood in awe as I watched them. They met almost above me, and I could
see them hovering with clasped hands while they touched cheeks in
affectionate greeting. Then, releasing each other, they flew rapidly away
together--smaller and smaller, until a turn in the valley hid them
entirely from my sight.

I sat down abruptly. A lump was in my throat, a dismal lonesomeness in my
heart. I knew Miela would return in a moment--that she had met some friend
or relative--yet I could not suppress the vague feeling of sorrow and the
knowledge of my own incapacity that swept over me.

For the first time then I wanted wings--wanted them myself--that I might
join this wife I loved in her glorious freedom of the air. And I realized,
too, for the first time, how that condition Miela so deplored on Mercury
had come to pass. I could understand now very easily how it was that
married women were deprived by their husbands of these wings which they
themselves were denied by the Creator.

Hardly more than ten minutes had passed before I saw the two girls again
flying toward me. They alighted a short distance away, and approached me,
hand in hand.

The girl with Miela, I could see now, was somewhat shorter, even slighter
of build, and two or three years younger. Her face held the same delicate,
wistful beauty. The two girls strongly resembled one another in feature.
The newcomer was dressed in similar fashion to Miela--sandals on her feet,
and silken trousers of a silvery white, fastened at the ankles with golden
cords.

Her wings, as I have said, were blue--a delight light blue that, as I
afterward noticed, matched her eyes. Her hair was the color of spun gold;
she wore it in two long, thick braids over her shoulders and fastened at
the waist and knee. She was, in very truth, the most ethereal human being
I had ever beheld. And--next to Miela--the most beautiful.

Miela pulled her forward, and she came on, blushing with the sweet shyness
of a child. She was winding her silken silver scarf about her breast
hastily, as best she could with her free hand.

"My sister, Anina--Alan," said Miela simply.

The girl stood undecided; then, evidently obeying Miela's swift words of
instruction, she stood up on tiptoe, put her arms about my neck, and
kissed me full on the lips.

Miela laughed gayly.

"You must love her very much, Alan. And she--your little sister--will love
you, too. She is very sweet."

Then her face sobered suddenly.

"Tao has returned, Alan. And he has sent messengers to our city. They are
appealing to our people to join Tao in his great conquest. They say Tao
has here with him, on Mercury, a captive earthman, with wonderful strength
of body, who will help in the destruction of his own world!"



CHAPTER XIII.


THE CAPTIVE EARTH-MAN.


As we came out of the valley I had my first view of the Great City. It
occupied a huge, mound-shaped circular mountain which rose alone out of
the wide plain that spread before me. As far as I could see extended a
rich muddy soil partially covered with water. A road led out of the
valley, stretching across these wet fields toward the base of the
mountain. It was built on an embankment some eight or ten feet high, of
the red, metallic ore of the mountains.

All along the base of this embankment, with their roots in the water,
graceful trees like palms curved upward over the road. The landscape was
dotted with these and other tropical trees; the scene was, indeed,
essentially tropical.

I wondered at the continued absence of sight of human beings. The fields
were quite evidently under cultivation. A rise of ground off to the left
was ridged with terraces. As we passed on along the road I saw a rude form
of plow standing where it had been left in a field which evidently was
producing rice or something akin to it. Yet there was not a person in
sight. Only ahead in the sky I could see a little cluster of black dots
that Miela said was a group of females hovering about the summit of the
Great City.

"It is the time of sleep now, Alan," she said, in answer to my question.

I had not thought of that. It was broad daylight, but here on Mercury
there was no day or night, but always the same half light, as of a cloudy
day.

The mountain on which the city was built was dotted thickly with palms,
and as we approached I made out the houses of the city, set amid the
trees, with broad streets converging at the top. As we came still closer I
saw that the summit of the mountain was laid out like some beautiful
tropical garden, with a broad, low-lying palace in its center.

When we were still a mile or so away from the outskirts of the city Miela
spoke in her soft native tongue to Anina. The girl smiled at me in
parting, and, unwinding the veil from about her breast, flew into the air.

We stood watching her as she winged her way onward toward the sleeping
city. When she had dwindled to a tiny speck I sighed unconsciously and
turned away; and again Miela smiled at me with comprehension.

We started forward, Miela chattering now like a little child. She seemed
eager to tell me all about the new world of hers I was entering, and there
was indeed so much to tell she was often at a loss what to describe first.

She named the cereal which constituted the only crop to which these marsh
lands were suitable. From her description I made out it was similar to
rice, only of a somewhat larger grain. It formed, she said, the staple
article of food of the nation.

As we approached the base of the Great City mountain the ground began
gradually rising. The drainage thus afforded made it constantly drier as
we advanced. It assumed now more the character of a heavy loam.

Still farther on we began passing occasional houses--the outskirts of the
city itself. They were square, single-story, ugly little buildings, built
of reddish stone and clay, flat-roofed, and raised a foot or two off the
ground on stone pilings. They had large rectangular windows, most of them
open, a few with lattice shades. The doorways stood open without sign of a
door; access to the ground was obtained by a narrow board incline.

Interspersed with these stone houses I saw many single-room shacks,
loosely built of narrow boards from the palm trees, and thatched with
straw. In these, Miela explained, lived poorer people, who worked in the
rice fields for the small land owners.

We reached the base of the mountain proper, and I found myself in a broad
street with houses on both sides. This street seemed to run directly to
the summit of the mountain, sloping upward at a sharp angle. We turned
into it and began our climb into the sleeping city. It was laid out
regularly, all its principal streets running from the base of the mountain
upward to its summit, where they converged in a large open space in which
the castle I have already mentioned was situated. The cross-streets formed
concentric rings about the mountain, at intervals of perhaps five hundred
feet down its sides--small circles near the top, lengthening until at the
base the distance around was, I should judge, ten miles or more.

We climbed upward nearly to the summit; then Miela turned into one of the
cross-streets. I had found the climb tremendously tiring, though Miela
seemed not to notice it unduly, and I was glad enough when we reached this
street which girdled the mountain almost at the same level. We had gone
only a short distance along it, however, when Miela paused before a house
set somewhat back from the road on a terrace.

"My home," she said, and her voice trembled a little with emotion. "_Our_
home it shall be now, Alan, with Lua and Anina, our mother and sister."

A low, bushy hedge separated the street from a garden that surrounded the
house. The building was of stone, two stories in height. It was covered
with a thick vine bearing a profusion of vivid red flowers. On its flat
roof were tiny palm trees, a pergola with trellised vines, and still more
flowers, most of them of the same brilliant red. The whole was surrounded
by a waist-high parapet.

One corner of the roof was covered with thatch--a little nest where one
might be sheltered from the rain, and in which I could see a bed of palm
fiber. At one side of the house a tremendous cluster of bamboo curved
upward and over the roof. A path of chopped coconut husks led from the
street to a short flight of steps in the terrace at the front entrance.

We passed along this path and entered through the open doorway directly
into what I judged was the living room of the dwelling. It was some thirty
feet long and half as broad, with a high ceiling and stone floor. Its
three windows fronted the garden we had just left; in its farther wall a
low archway led into an adjoining room. The furniture consisted only of
two or three small tables and several low, wide couches, all of bamboo.

A woman and the girl Anina rose as we entered. Anina ran toward us
eagerly; the elder woman stood, quietly waiting. She was about forty years
of age, as tall as Miela, but heavier of build. She was dressed in loose
silk trousers, gathered at waist and ankle; and a wide sash that covered
her breast. Her hair was iron gray, cut short at the base of the neck.
From her shoulders I saw hanging a cloak that entirely covered her wings.

As she turned toward us I saw a serious, dignified, wholly patrician face,
with large, kindly dark eyes, a high, intellectual forehead, and a firm
yet sensitive mouth. She was the type of woman one would instinctively
mark for leader.

Miela ran forward to greet her mother, falling upon her knees and touching
her forehead to the elder woman's sandaled feet. As she rose I could see
there were tears in the eyes of them both. Then Miela presented me. I
stood for an instant, confused, not knowing quite what I should do.

Miela laughed her gay little laugh.

"Bow low, Alan--as I did--to our mother."

I knelt to her respectfully, and she put her hands lightly upon my head,
speaking low words of greeting. Then, as I stood up again, I met her eyes
and smiled an answer to the gentle smile on her lips. From that moment I
felt almost as though she were my own mother, and I am sure she took me
then into her heart as her son.

The introduction over, I turned toward one of the windows, leaving Miela
to talk with her mother. Anina followed me, standing timidly by my side,
with her big, curious eyes looking up into my face.

"You're a sweet, dear little sister," I said, "and I _am_ going to love
you very much."

I put my arm about her shoulders, and she smiled as though she understood
me, yielding to my embrace with the ready friendship of a child. For some
moments we stood together, looking out of the window and talking to each
other with words that were quite unintelligible to us both. Then Miela
suddenly called me.

"We shall eat now, Alan," she said, "for you are hungry, I know. And above
there is water, that we may wash." Her face clouded as she went on: "Our
mother has told me a little that has happened. It is very serious, Alan,
as you shall hear. Tao, with his great news of your wonderful world, is
very fast winning over our men to his cause. A revolt, there may be, here
in our own city--a revolution against our government, our king. We can
only look to you now, my husband, to save our country from Tao as well as
your own."

The situation as I found it in the Light Country was, as Miela said,
alarmingly serious. During the two years Tao had been in the Twilight
Country, preparing for his attack upon the earth, his project had caused
little stir among the Light Country people.

Its women were, at first, perturbed at this wanton attack upon the
humanity of another world, but since the earth was such an unknown
quantity, and the fact of its being inhabited at all was problematical,
interest in the affair soon lagged. The government of the Light Country
concerned itself not at all.

But now, upon Tao's return, the news of his venture, as told by the
emissaries he sent to the Light Country, struck its people like a
bombshell. These emissaries--all men--had come to the Great City, and,
finding their presence tolerated by the authorities, had immediately
started haranguing the people.

The men were inclined to listen, and many of them openly declared their
sympathy with Tao. These, however, were for the most part of the poorer,
more ignorant classes, or those more adventurous, less scrupulous
individuals to whom the prospect of sudden riches appealed.

"Why doesn't your government just throw Tao's men out if they're causing
so much trouble?" I asked. "They never should have been allowed in the
country at all."

Miela smiled sadly.

"That is so, my husband. That should have been done; but now it is too
late. Our men would protect them now, declaring their right to stay here
and speak. There might be bloodshed among our people, and that must not
be."

"Are they armed?" I asked.

She shook her head. "No one is armed with the light-ray. To carry it is a
crime punishable by death, for the light is too destructive."

"But Tao has it?"

"Tao has it, indeed, but he is not so great a monster that he would use it
against us."

I was not so sure of that, and I said so. "You don't mean to tell me,
Miela, that your government has allowed Tao to prepare all this
destructive armament without itself arming?"

Again she shook her head. "We have been preparing, too, and all our young
men can be called if occasion comes. But that must never be. It would be
too terrible."

       *       *       *       *       *

Miela and I occupied, that first night on Mercury, a broad wooden bed
built low to the floor, with a mattress of palm fiber. At first I could
not sleep, but lay thinking over the many things she had told me. The
light in the room, too, was strange. Lattice covered the windows, but it
was like trying to sleep at midday; and the heat and heaviness of the air
oppressed me. I dropped off finally, to be awakened by Miela's voice
calling me to breakfast.

We sat down to the morning meal at a low table set with shining plates and
goblets of copper, or whatever the metal was, and napery of silk. The rice
formed our main article of food, with sugar, milk, and a beverage not
unlike coffee. There was also a meat like beef, although more highly
flavored, and a number of sickish sweet fruits of a kind entirely new to
me, which I could do no more than taste.

We were served by a little maid whose darker skin and heavier features
proclaimed her of another race--a native of the Fire Country, Miela told
me. She was dressed in a brown tunic of heavy silk, reaching from waist to
knee. Her thick black hair was cut to her shoulders.

On her left arm above the elbow was welded a broad band of copper
inscribed with a mark to identify Lua as her owner, for she was a slave.
Her torso was bare, except for a cloak like Lua's which hung from her
shoulders in the back to cover her wings. By this I knew she could not
fly.

It was not until some time afterward that I learned the reason for this
covering of the clipped wings. The wing joints were severed just above the
waist line. The feathers on the remaining upper portions were clipped, but
through disuse these feathers gradually dropped out entirely.

The flesh and muscle underneath was repulsive in appearance--for which
reason it was always kept covered. Lua showed me her wings once--mere
shrunken stumps of what had once been her most glorious possession. I did
not wonder then that the women were ready to fight, almost, rather than
part with them.

Difficulties of language made our conversation during the meal somewhat
halting, although Miela acted as interpreter. Lua and Anina both expressed
their immediate determination to learn English, and, with the same
persistence that Miela had shown, they set aside nearly everything else to
accomplish it.

We decided that we should see the king and arrange our future course of
action. Whatever was to be done should be done at once--that we all
agreed--for Tao's men were steadily gaining favor with a portion of the
people, and we had no means of knowing what they would attempt to do.

"What will your people think of me?" I suddenly asked Miela.

"We have sent our king word that you are here," she answered, "and we have
asked that he send a guard to take you to the castle this morning."

"A guard?"

She smiled. "It is better that the people see you first as a man of
importance. You will go to the king under guard. Few will notice you. Then
will he, our ruler, arrange that you are shown to the people as a great
man--one who has come here to help us--one who is trusted and respected by
our king. You see, my husband, the difference?"

I did, indeed, though I wondered a little how I should justify this
exalted position which was being thrust upon me. After breakfast Lua and
Anina busied themselves about the house, while Miela and I went to the
rooftop to wait for the king's summons. From here I had my first really
good view of the city at close range.

Miela's home sat upon a terrace, leveled off on the steep hillside; all
the houses in the vicinity were similarly situated. Behind us the mountain
rose steeply; in front it dropped away, affording an extended view of the
level, palm-dotted country below.

The slope of hillside rising abruptly behind us held another house just
above the level of the rooftop we were on. As I sat there looking idly
about I thought I saw a figure lurking near this higher building. I called
Miela's attention to it--the obscure figure of a man standing against a
huge palm trunk.

As we watched the figure stepped into plainer view. I saw then it _was_ a
man, evidently looking down at us. I stood up. There was no one else in
sight except a woman on the roof of the other house holding an infant.

Something about the man's figure seemed vaguely familiar; my heart leaped
suddenly.

"Miela," I whispered, "surely that--that is no one of your world."

Her hand clutched my arm tightly as the man stepped forward again and
waved at us. I crossed the rooftop, Miela following. At my sudden motion
the man hesitated, then seemed about to run. I hardly know what thoughts
impelled me, but suddenly I shouted: "Wait!"

At the sound of my voice he whirled around, stopped dead an instant, and
then, with an answering call, came running down the hillside.

"The earth-man!" cried Miela. "The earth-man of Tao it must be."

We hurried down through the house and arrived at its back entrance. Coming
toward us at a run across the garden was the man--unmistakably one of my
own world.

My hurried glance showed me he was younger than I--a short, stocky,
red-headed chap, dressed in dirty white duck trousers and a torn white
linen shirt.

He came on at full speed.

"Hello!" I called.

He stopped abruptly. For an instant we stared at each other; then he
grinned broadly.

"Well, I don't know who _you_ are," he ejaculated, "but I want to say it
certainly does me good to see you."



CHAPTER XIV.


THE RULER OF THE LIGHT COUNTRY.


However pleased the newcomer was to see me, I had no difficulty in
assuring him with equal truth that my feelings matched his. The first
surprise of the meeting over, we took him to the living room, where Lua
greeted him with dignified courtesy, and we all gathered around to hear
his story.

He was, I saw now, not more than twenty years old, rather short--perhaps
five feet six or seven inches--and powerfully built, with a shock of
tousled red hair and a handsome, rough-hewn face essentially masculine.

He seemed to be an extraordinarily good-humored chap, with the ready wit
of an Irishman. I liked him at once--I think we all did.

He began, characteristically, near the end rather than the beginning of
the events I knew he must have to tell us.

"I got away," he chuckled, grinning more broadly than ever. "But where I
was going to, search me. And who the deuce are _you_, if you don't mind my
asking? How did you ever get to this God-forsaken place?"

I smiled. "You tell us about yourself first; then I'll tell you about
myself. You are the earth-man we've been hearing about, aren't you--the
man Tao captured in Wyoming and brought here with him?"

"They caught me in Wyoming all right. Who's Tao?"

"He's the leader of them all."

"Oh. Well, they brought me here, as you say, and I guess they've had me
about all over this little earth since. They stuck me in a boat, and Lord
knows how far we went. We got here last night, and when my guard went to
sleep I beat it." He scratched his head lugubriously. "Though what good I
thought it was going to do me I don't know. That's about all, I guess.
Who the deuce are you?"

I laughed.

"Wait a minute--don't go so fast. Start at the beginning. What's your
name?"

"Oliver Mercer."

His face grew suddenly grave. "My brother was killed up there in
Wyoming--that's how I happened to go there in the first place."

"Mercer!" I exclaimed.

He started. "Yes--why? You don't think you know me, by any chance, do
you?"

"No, but I knew your brother--that is, I know Bob Trevor, who was with him
when he was killed. He's one of my best friends."

The young fellow extended his hand. "A friend of Bob Trevor's--away off
here! Don't it get you, just?"

Miela interrupted us here to translate to her mother and Anina what he
said.

Mercer went on: "The assumption is, you people here are not working with
this gang of crooks I got away from--this Tao? Am I right in thinking so?"

"You're certainly right, that far," I laughed.

I felt, more than I can say, a great sense of relief, a lessening of the
tension, the unconscious strain I had been under, at this swift, jovial
conversation with another human of my own kind.

"Yes, you're right on that. This Tao and I are not exactly on the same
side. I'll tell you all about it in a minute."

"Then, we're working together?"

"Yes."

"Well, all I'm working for is to get back home where I came from."

"You won't be when you hear all I've got to say."

He started at that; then, with sudden change of thought, his eyes turned
to Anina. The girl blushed under his admiring gaze.

"Say, she's a little beauty, isn't she? Who is she?"

"She's my sister," I said, smiling.

For once he was too dumfounded to reply.

Miela had finished her translation now, and, as she turned back to us,
spoke in English for the first time during the conversation.

"Do you know why it is they brought you here from the Twilight Country?"
she asked Mercer.

This gave him another shock. "Why, I--no. That is--say, how do you happen
to talk English? Is it one of your languages here, by any chance?"

Miela laughed gayly.

"Only we three, in all this world, speak English. I know it because--"

I interrupted her.

"Suppose I tell him our whole story, Miela? Then--"

"That's certainly what I want to hear," said Mercer emphatically. "And
especially why it is that I'm not supposed to want to get back to where I
belong."

My explanation must have lasted nearly an hour, punctuated by many
questions and exclamations of wonder from young Mercer. I told him the
whole affair in detail, and ended with a statement of exactly how matters
stood now on Mercury.

"Do you want to hurry back home to earth now?" I finished.

"Duck out of this? I should say not. Why, we've got a million things to do
here."

His eyes turned again toward Anina.

"And, say--about letting those girls keep their wings. I'm strong for
that. Let's be sure and fix that up before we leave."

It was not more than half an hour later when the king's guards arrived to
conduct us to the castle. Meanwhile young Mercer had discovered he was
hungry and thirsty. As soon as he had finished eating we started off--he
and I, with Lua and Miela. The guards led us away as though we were
prisoners, forming a hollow square--there were some thirty of them--with
us in the center. We attracted little attention from passersby; the few
who stopped to stare at us, or who attempted to follow, were briskly
ordered away.

Occasionally a few girls would hover overhead, but when the guards shouted
up at them they flew away obediently.

The king's castle was constructed of metal and stone--a long, low,
rambling structure, flanked by two spires or minarets, giving it somewhat
an Oriental appearance. Each of these minarets was girdled, halfway up, by
a narrow balcony.

The first room into which we passed was small, seemingly an antechamber.
From it, announced by two other guards who stood at the entrance, we
entered directly into the main hall of the building. At one end of it
there was a raised platform. On this, seated about a large table, were
some ten or twelve dignitaries--the king's advisers. They were, I saw, all
aged men, with beardless, seamed faces, long snowy-white hair to their
shoulders, and dressed in flowing silk robes.

The king was a man of seventy-odd, kindly faced, gentle in demeanor. He
bore himself with the dignity of a born ruler, and yet his very kindliness
of aspect and the doddering gravity of his aged councilors, seemed to
explain at once most of the trouble that now confronted him.

We stood beside this table--they courteously made way for Lua to sit among
them--and all its occupants immediately turned to face us.

Our audience lasted perhaps an hour and a half altogether. I need not go
into details. I was right in assuming that the king desired to help us
prevent Tao from his attempted conquest of the earth. This was so, but
only in so far as his actions would not jeopardize the peace of his own
nation. He sadly admitted his error in allowing Tao's emissaries into the
Light Country. But now they were there, he did not see how to get them
out.

His people were daily listening to them more eagerly; and, what was worse,
the police guards themselves seemed rather more in sympathy with them than
otherwise. A slight disturbance had occurred in the streets the day
before, and the guards had stood apathetically by, taking no part. Above
all else, the king stoutly protested, he would have no bloodshed in his
country if he could prevent it.

In the neighboring towns of the Light Country--the nearest of which was
some forty miles away from the Great City--the situation was almost the
same. Reports brought by young women flying between the cities said that
to many Tao also had sent emissaries who were fast winning converts to his
cause.

"Do all these people who believe in Tao expect to go to our earth when it
is conquered?" I asked Miela. "How can they--so many of them--hope to
benefit in that way? Aren't they satisfied here?"

Miela smiled sadly.

"No people can ever be satisfied--all of them. That you must know, my
husband. They have many grievances against our ruler. Many things they
want which he cannot give. Tao may promise these things--and if they
believe his promise it is very bad."

"He might come over here and try to make himself king," Mercer said
suddenly. "If it's like that maybe he could do it, too, with this grand
earth-conquest getting ready. Tell the king that--see what he says."

"He says that he realizes and fears it," Miela answered. "But he thinks
that first Tao will go to your earth, and he may never come back. So much
may happen--"

"So he's just going to wait," I explained. "Well, _we're_ not just going
to wait. Ask the king what our status is."

"Ask him about me," Mercer put in. "Are those Tao men going to grab me the
minute I show my face on the street, or will he protect me?"

Miela translated this to the king, adding something of her own to which he
evidently agreed.

"It is as I thought," she said. "He believes he can present you to the
people as men of earth who are our guests, and that they will accept you
in friendly spirit, most of them."

The king spoke to one of his advisers, who abruptly left the room.

"He will call the people now," Miela went on, "and will speak to them from
the tower--all who can leave their tasks to come. You will stand there
with him. He will ask that we of the Light Country allow you to remain
here in peace among us. And this captive earth man of Tao's"--she laid her
hand lightly on Mercer's shoulder--"he will ask, too, that he be given
sanctuary among us. Our people still are kindly--most of them--and they
will see the justice of what he asks."

I suggested then that Miela tell the king that we had determined, if we
could, to frustrate Tao in his plans; and showed her how to point out to
him that such an outcome would, if successful, make his throne secure and
insure peace for his nation.

He asked me bluntly what it was I thought I could do. The vague beginnings
of a plan were forming in my mind. "Tell him, Miela, I think we can rid
the Light Country of Tao's emissaries--send them back--without causing any
disturbances among the people. Ask him if that would not be a good thing."

The king nodded gravely as this was translated.

"He asks you how?" Miela said next.

"Tell him, Miela, that there are some things that might happen of which he
would be very glad, but which it might be better he did not know. You
understand. Make him see that we will be responsible for this--that he
needn't have anything to do with it or know anything about it. Then, if we
do anything wrong against your laws, he will be perfectly safe in stopping
and punishing us."

Miela nodded, and began swiftly telling this to the king. As she spoke I
saw his eyes twinkle and a swift little series of nods from the aged men
about the table made me know that I had carried my point. During the
latter part of this talk I had noticed the growing murmur of voices
outside the castle. The old man who had left the room at the king's order
came back.

"The people now are gathering," Miela said. "In a moment we shall go up
into the tower."

The king's councilors now rose and withdrew, and a few moments later the
king, without formality, led the four of us through the castle and up into
the tower.

We climbed a little stone staircase in the tower and came into a circular
room some sixty feet above the ground. A small doorway from this room gave
access to the narrow balcony which girdled the tower. The sounds of the
gathering crowd came up plainly from the gardens below. We waited for a
time, and then, at a sign from the king, stepped together upon the
balcony.

The gardens below were full of people--gathered among the palms and moving
about for points of vantage from which to obtain a view of the balcony.
Most of them were men and older women. The girls were, nearly all of them,
in the air, flying about the tower and hovering near the balcony, staring
at us curiously. The women were, for the most part, dressed as I have
described Lua.

The men wore knee-length trousers of fabric or leather, and sometimes a
shirt or leather jacket, although a difference of costume that made
evident the rank of the wearer was noticeable in both sexes. All were
bareheaded, with the exception of the king's guards, who were thus plainly
distinguishable, standing idly about among the crowd.

As we stepped out into view of the people a louder murmur arose, mingled
with a ripple of applause. Three or four girls, hovering only a few feet
in front of us, clapped their hands and laughed. The king placed Mercer
and me on either side of him, and, standing with his hands on our
shoulders, leaned over the balcony rail and began to speak.

A silence fell over the crowd; they listened quietly, but with none of
that respect and awe with which a people usually faces its king.

Miela whispered to me. "He is telling them about your earth, and that you
came here to visit us in friendly spirit."

There were some murmurs of dissent as the king proceeded, and once some
bolder individual shouted up a question, at which a wave of laughter
arose. As it died away, and the crowd appeared to listen to the king's
next words, a stone suddenly came whirling up from below, narrowly missing
the king's head. A sudden hush fell over the people at this hostile act;
then a tumult of shouting broke loose, and a commotion off to one side
showed where the offender was standing.

Mercer wheeled toward me, his face white with anger.

"Who did that--did you see him? Which one was it?"

The king began to speak, as if nothing had occurred, and an instant later
several more stones whistled past us. The commotion in the crowd grew more
violent, but it was evident that a great majority of the people were
against this demonstration.

"It is better we go inside," Miela said quietly.

The king was shouting down to his guards now, but they stood apathetically
by, taking no part.

Another stone hurtled past us, striking the tower and falling at our feet.
The king abruptly ceased his shouting and left the balcony. As he passed
me and I glanced into his frightened face I felt a sudden sense of pity
for this gentle, kindly old man, so well-meaning, but so utterly
ineffective as a ruler.

I was about to pull Miela back into the room when a girl flew up to the
balcony railing. As she balanced herself upon it I saw it was Anina. She
said something to Miela, who turned swiftly to me.

"She is right, my husband. We must not leave the matter like this. They
can have no confidence in you--our women most of all--if you do not do
something now. A sign of your strength now would make them respect
you--perhaps one of those who threw the stones you could punish."

I knew she was right. Most of the crowd was with us. If we retreated now,
those against us would grow bolder--our appearance on the street might at
any time be dangerous. But if now we proved ourselves superior in
strength, the popular sentiment in our favor would be just that much
stronger. At least, that is the way it seemed to me.

I did not need to ask Mercer's opinion, for at Miela's words he
immediately said: "That's my idea. Just give me a chance at them."

He leaned over the balcony. "How are we going to get down there? It's too
far to drop."

Miela spoke to Anina, and they both flew away. In a moment they were back
with two other girls. All four clung to the outside of the balcony
railing, and formed a cross with their joined hands. Into this little seat
of their arms I clambered. My weight was too great for them to have lifted
me up, but they fluttered safely with me to the ground, landing in a heap
among the people, who had cleared a space to receive us. As soon as I was
upon my feet the girls flew back for Mercer, and in a moment more he was
beside me.

"If we only knew who threw those stones," I said.

I stood erect, and my greater height enabled me to see over the heads of
the people easily.

Miela laid her hand on my arm.

"One of them I know. His name is Baar, a bad character. He has caused much
trouble in the past."

She then told me hastily that she and Anina would fly up and seek him out.
Mercer and I were to follow them through the crowd on the ground.

The throng was pushing close about us now, although those nearest us tried
to keep away as best they could. Miela and Anina flew up over our heads,
and, side by side, Mercer and I started off. The people struggled back
before our advance, striving to make a path for us. At times the press of
those behind made it impossible for them to give us room. We did not
hesitate, but shoved our way forward, elbowing them away roughly.

Suddenly, some twenty feet ahead of us, I saw Miela and Anina come to the
ground, and in a moment more we were with them again.

The crowd was less dense here, and about us there was a considerable open
space, Miela pointed out a man leaning against the trunk of a palm tree
near by and glaring at us malevolently.

"That is he," she said quietly. "A very bad man--this Baar--whom many
would like to see punished."

Mercer jumped forward, but I swept him back with my arm.

"Leave him to me," I said. "You stand here by the girls. If I need you,
I'll shout."

The man by the tree was a squat little individual, some five feet three or
four inches tall, and extraordinarily broad. He was bareheaded, with black
hair falling to his shoulders. He was naked to the waist, exposing a
powerful torso. His single garment was the usual knee-length trousers. I
thought I had never seen so evil a face as his, as he stood there, holding
his ground before my slow advance, and leering at me. His cheek bones were
high, his jowls heavy, his little eyes set wide apart. His nose was flat,
as though it had once been broken.

I went straight up to him, and he did not move. There were certainly three
hundred people watching us as I stood there facing him.

"You threw a stone at your king," I said to him sternly, although I knew
perfectly well he could not understand my words. "You shall be punished."

I reached out suddenly and struck him in the face as smartly as I could
with the flat of my hand. He gave a roar of surprise and pain, and as soon
as he could recover from my blow lunged at me with a snarl of rage.

As he came I turned and darted swiftly away. I heard a shout of surprise
from Mercer. "It's all right," he called. "Wait."

I ran about twenty feet, then turned and waited. The man came on, head
down, charging like a mad bull. When he was close upon me I gathered my
muscles and sprang clear over his head, landing well behind him.

He stopped and looked around confusedly, evidently not quite sure at first
what had become of me.

Mercer gave a shout of glee, and, to my great satisfaction, I heard it
taken up by the crowd, mingled with murmurs of surprise and awe.

I stood quiet, and again my opponent charged me. I eluded him easily, and
then for fully ten minutes I taunted and baited him this way, as a
skillful toreador taunts his bull. The crowd now seemed to enjoy the
affair hugely.

Finally I darted behind my adversary and, catching him by the shoulders,
tripped him and laid him on his back on the ground A great roar of
laughter went up from the onlookers.

The man was on his feet again in an instant, breathing heavily, for indeed
he had nearly winded himself by his exertions. I ran over to Mercer.

"Go on," I said; "show them what you can do."

The commotion of this contest had drawn many other spectators about us
now, but they kept a space clear, pushing back hurriedly before our sudden
rushes. At my words Mercer darted forward eagerly. His first move was to
leap some twenty feet across the open space. This smaller opponent seemed
to give the Mercutian new courage.

He shouted exultantly and dashed at Mercer, who stood quietly waiting for
him at the edge of the crowd.

Mercer's ideas evidently were different from mine, for as his adversary
came within reach he stepped nimbly aside and hit him a vicious blow in
the face. The man toppled over backward and lay still.

I ran over to where Mercer was bending over his fallen foe. As I came up
he straightened and grinned at me. "Oh, shucks," he said disgustedly. "You
can't fight up here--it's too easy."



CHAPTER XV.


THE MOUNTAIN CONCLAVE.


"It is reasonable," Miela said thoughtfully. "And that our women will help
as you say--of that I am sure."

We were gathered in the living room after the evening meal, and I had
given them my ideas of how we should start meeting the situation that
confronted us. We had had no more trouble that day. After the encounter in
the king's garden Mercer and I had followed the two girls swiftly home. We
were not molested in the streets, although the people crowded about us
wherever we went.

"Why did none of Baar's friends come to his rescue up there in the
garden?" I asked Miela. "Surely there must have been many of them about."

"They were afraid, perhaps," she answered. "And they knew the people were
against them. There might have been serious trouble; for that is not their
way--to fight in the open."

Her face became very grave. "We must be very careful, my husband, that
they, or Tao's men do not come here to harm you while you sleep."

"Why do you suppose they ever happened to bring me here in the first
place?" Mercer wanted to know. "That's what I can't figure out."

"They knew not that Alan was here," said Miela. "I think they wanted to
show you to our people as their captive--one of the earth-men."

Mercer chuckled.

"They didn't know what a good runner I was, or they'd never have taken a
chance like that."

I told Miela then my plan for enlisting the sympathy of the women of the
Light Country and for securing the active coÃ¶peration of the girls in
ridding us of the disturbing presence of these Tao emissaries.

We planned that whatever we did should be in secret, so far as possible.
Mercer and I talked together, while Miela consulted with Lua at length.

I explained to Mercer that Tao might at any time send an expedition to
invade the Light Country.

"How about that car we came from earth in?" he suggested. "He could sail
over in that, couldn't he--if he should want to come over here?"

I knew that was not feasible. In the outer realms of space the balancing
attractions of the different heavenly bodies made it easy enough to head
in any specified direction; but for travel over a planet's surface it was
quite impractical. Its rise and fall could be perfectly governed; but when
it was directed laterally the case was very different. Just where it would
go could not be determined with enough exactness.

Miela turned back to us from her consultation with Lua.

"In the mountains, high up and far beyond the Valley of the Sun," she
said, "lies a secret place known only to our women. Our mother says that
she and I and Anina can spread the news among our virgins to gather there
to-morrow at the time of sleep. Only to those we know we can trust will we
speak--and they will have no men to whom to tell our plans. To-morrow they
will gather up there in the clouds, among the crags, unseen by prying
eyes. And you and our--our friend Ollie"--she smiled as she used the
nickname by which he had asked her to call him--"you two we will take
there by the method you have told us. We will arrange, up there in secret,
what it is we are to do to help our world and yours."

This, in effect, was our immediate plan of procedure. Nearly all the next
day Mercer and I stayed about the house, while the three women went
through the city quietly, calling forth all those they could reach to our
conclave in the mountains.

They returned some time after midday. Miela came first, alighting with a
swift, triumphant swoop upon the roof where Mercer and I were sitting.

One glance at her face told me she had been successful.

"They will come, my husband," she announced. "And they are ready and
eager, all of them, to do what they can."

Anina and Lua brought the same news. When we were all together again
Mercer and I took them to the garden behind the house and showed them what
we had done while they were away.

It was my plan to have the girls carry Mercer and me through the air with
them. For that purpose we had built a platform of bamboo, which now lay
ready in the garden.

Miela clapped her hands at sight of it. "That is perfect, my husband. No
difficulty will there be in taking you with us now."

The platform was six feet wide by ten long. It rested upon a frame with
two poles of bamboo some forty feet in length running lengthwise along its
edges. These two poles thus projected in front and back of the platform
fifteen feet each way. Running under them crosswise at intervals were
other, shorter bamboo lengths which projected out the sides a few feet to
form handles. There were ten of them on a side at intervals of four feet.

I found it difficult to realize the difference between night and day,
since here on Mercury the light never changed. I longed now for that
darkness of our own earth which would make it so much easier for us to
conceal our movements. Miela relieved my mind on that score, however, by
explaining that at nearly the same hour almost every one in the city fell
asleep. The physical desire for sleep was, I learned, much stronger with
the Mercutians than with us; and only by the drinking of a certain
medicinal beverage could they ward it off.

It was after the evening meal, at a time which might have corresponded to
an hour or so before midnight, that the selected eighteen girls began to
arrive. Miela brought them into the living room with us until they were
all together.

It was a curious gathering--this bevy of Mercutian maidens. They all
seemed between the ages of sixteen and twenty-three--fragile, dainty
little wisps of femininity, yet having a strength in their highly
developed wing muscles that was truly surprising.

They were dressed in the characteristic costume I have described, with
only a slight divergence of color or ornamentation. They were of only two
types--jet black tresses, black eyes, and red-feathered wings like Miela;
or the less vivid, more ethereal Anina--blue-eyed, golden-haired, with
wing feathers of light blue.

When they had all arrived we went into the garden behind the house. In a
moment more Mercer and I were seated side by side on the little bamboo
platform. Miela and Anina took the center positions so that they would be
near us. The other girls ranged themselves along the sides, each grasping
one of the handles.

In another moment we were in the air. My first sensation was one of a
sudden rushing forward and upward. The frail little craft swayed under me
alarmingly, but I soon grew used to that. The flapping of those many pairs
of huge wings so close was very loud; the wind of our swift forward flight
whistled past my ears. Looking down over the side of the platform, between
the bodies of two of the girls, I could see the city silently dropping
away beneath us. Above there was nothing but the same dead gray sky, black
in front, with occasional vivid lightning flashes and the rumble of
distant thunder.

Underneath the storm cloud, far ahead, the jagged tops of a range of
mountains projected above the horizon. As I watched they seemed slowly
creeping up and forward as the horizon rolled back to meet them.

For half an hour or so we sped onward through the air. We were over the
mountains now. Great jagged, naked peaks of shining metal towered above
us, with that broken, utterly desolate country beneath. We swept
continually upward, for the mountains rose steadily in broad serrated
ranks before us.

Occasionally we would speed up a narrow defile, with the broken, tumbling
cliffs rising abruptly over our heads, only to come out above a level
plateau or across a caÃ±on a thousand feet deep or more.

The storm broke upon us. We entered a cloud that wrapped us in its wet
mist and hid the mountains from our sight. The darkness of twilight
settled down, lighted by flashes of lightning darting almost over our
heads. The sharp cracks of thunder so close threatened to split my
eardrums.

The wind increased in violence. The little platform trembled and swayed. I
could see the girls struggling to hold it firm. At times we would drop
abruptly straight down a hundred or two hundred feet, with a great
fluttering of wings; but all the time I knew we were rising sharply.

Mercer and I clung tightly to the platform. We did not speak, and I think
both of us were frightened. Certainly we were awed by the experience.
After a time--I have no idea how long--we passed through the storm and
came again into the open air with the same gray sky above us.

We were several thousand feet up now, flying over what seemed to be a
tumbling mass of small volcanic craters. In front of us rose a sheer cliff
wall, extending to the right and left to the horizon. We passed over its
rim, and I saw that it curved slightly inward, forming the circumference
of a huge circle.

The inner floor was hardly more than a thousand feet down, and seemed
fairly level. We continued on, arriving finally over the mouth of a little
circular pit. This formed an inner valley, half a mile across and with
sheer side walls some five hundred feet high. As we swung down into it I
noticed above the horizon behind us a number of tiny black dots in the
sky--other girls flying out from the city to our meeting.

I have never beheld so wild, so completely desolate a scene. The ground
here was that same shining mass of virgin metal, tumbled about and broken
up in hopeless confusion.

Great rugged bowlders lay strewn about; tiny caverns yawned; fissures
opened up their unknown depths; sharp-pointed crags reared their heads
like spires left standing amid the ruins of some huge cathedral. There
was, indeed, hardly a level spot of ground in sight.

I wondered with vague alarm where we should land, for nowhere could I see
sufficient space, even for our small platform. We were following closely
the line of cliff wall when suddenly we swooped sharply downward and to
the right with incredible speed. My heart leaped when, for an instant, I
thought something had gone wrong. Then the forward end of the platform
tilted abruptly upward; there was a sudden, momentary fluttering of wings,
a scrambling as the girls' feet touched the ground, and we settled back
and came to rest with hardly more than a slight jar.

Miela stood up, rubbing her arms, which must have ached from her efforts.

"We are here, Alan--safely, as we planned."

We had landed on a little rocky niche that seemed to be in front of the
opening of a small cave mouth in the precipitous cliffside. I stood up
unsteadily, for I was cramped and stiff, and the solid earth seemed
swaying beneath me. I was standing on what was hardly more that a narrow
shelf, not over fifteen feet wide and some thirty feet above the base of
the cliff.

Mercer was beside me, looking about him with obvious awe.

"What a place!" he ejaculated.

We stepped cautiously to the brink of the ledge and peered over.
Underneath us, with the vertical wall of the cliff running directly down
into it, spread a small pool of some heavy, viscous fluid, inky black, and
with iridescent colors floating upon its surface. It bubbled and boiled
lazily, and we could feel its heat on our faces plainly.

Beyond the pool, not more than a hundred yards across, lay a mass of
ragged bowlders piled together in inextricable confusion; beyond these a
chasm with steam rising from it, whose bottom I could not see--a crack as
though the ground had suddenly cooled and split apart. Across the entire
surface of this little cliff-bound circular valley it was the same, as
though here a tortured nature had undergone some terrible agony in the
birth of this world.

The scene, which indeed had something infernal about it, would have been
extraordinary enough by itself; but what made it even more so was the fact
that several hundred girls were perched among these crags, sitting idle,
or standing up and flapping their wings like giant birds, and more were
momentarily swooping in from above. I had, for an instant, the feeling
that I was Dante, surveying the lower regions, and that here was a host of
angels from heaven invading them.

During the next hour fully a thousand girls arrived. There were perhaps
fifteen hundred altogether, and only a few stragglers were hastily flying
in when we decided to wait no longer.

Miela flew out around the little valley, calling them to come closer. They
came flying toward us and crowded upon the nearer crags just beyond the
pool, clutching the precipitous sides, and scrambling for a foothold
wherever they could. A hundred or more found place on the ledge with us,
or above or below it wherever a slight footing could be found on the wall
of the cliff.

When they were all settled, and the scrambling and flapping of wings had
ceased, Miela stood up and addressed them. A solemn, almost sinister hush
lay over the valley, and her voice carried far. She spoke hardly above the
ordinary tone, earnestly, and occasionally with considerable emphasis, as
though to drive home some important point.

For nearly half an hour she spoke without a break, then she called me to
her side and put one of her wings caressingly about my shoulders. I did
not know what she said, but a great wave of handclapping and flapping of
wings answered her. She turned to me with glowing face.

"I have told them about your wonderful earth, and Tao's evil plans; and
just now I said that you were my husband--and I, a wife, can still fly as
well as they. That is a very wonderful thing, Alan. No woman ever, in this
world, has been so blessed as I. They realize that--and they respect me
and love you for it."

She did not wait for me to speak, but again addressed the assembled girls.
When she paused a chorus of shouts answered her. Many of the girls in
their enthusiasm lost their uncertain footholds and fluttered about,
seeking others. For a moment there was confusion.

"I have told them briefly what we are to do," Miela explained. "First, to
rid the Great City of Tao's men, sending them back to the Twilight
Country; and do this in all our other cities where they are making
trouble. Then, when our nation is free from this danger, we will plan how
to deal with Tao direct, for he must not again go to your earth.

"And when all that is done I have said you will do your best to make our
men believe as you do, so that never again will our women marry only to
lose all that makes their virginity so glorious."



CHAPTER XVI.


THE FIRE PLANET.


I think I should explain now a little about the physical conformation of
Mercury--the "lay of the land," so to speak--in order that the events I am
about to describe may be more readily understood. It has already been made
clear by Bob Trevor, I believe, that Mercury revolves on its axis only
once during the time of its revolution around the sun. Thus, just as a
similar condition always makes our moon present very nearly the same face
to us, so Mercury presents always the same portion of its surface to the
sun.

It will be understood, therefore, that, theoretically, there must be on
Mercury but one spot where the sun always is directly overhead. It could
not be seen, however, owing to the dense clouds. This spot approximates
the center of the region known as the Fire Country.

So far as I could learn, it was here that human life on the planet began.
Certainly it was the first region where civilization reached any height.
When Columbus was discovering America great cities flourished in the Fire
Country--cities of untold wealth and beauty, now fallen into ruins like
the great cities of our own Aztec and Inca civilizations.

The Fire Country was then like the equatorial regions of earth--a dense,
tropic jungle, hotter than most temperatures we have to bear, but still,
by reason of its thick enveloping atmosphere of clouds, capable of
supporting life in comparative comfort. Its inhabitants were dark-skinned,
but rather more like our Indians than Negroid races.

Then, several centuries ago--the exact time is uncertain, for no written
records are kept on Mercury--came the Great Storms. Their cause was
unknown--some widespread atmospheric disturbance. These storms temporarily
parted the clouds in many places, allowing the direct rays of the sun to
fall upon the planet's surface. The resulting temperature destroyed all
life, withered all vegetation, with its scorching blast. The inhabitants
of the Fire Country were killed by hundreds of thousands, their cities
deserted, their land laid a desert waste.

These storms, which it appears began suddenly, have returned periodically
ever since, making the region practically uninhabitable. Its surviving
races, pushed outward toward the more temperate zone, were living, at this
time I am describing, in a much lower state of civilization than the
people of the Light Country--a civilization of comparative savagery. In
the Light Country they were held as slaves.

This region--thus very aptly known as the Fire Country--embraces a
circular area directly underneath the sun. So far as I could learn, it
extended outward roughly to those points where--if it had been
visible--the sun would have appeared some halfway between zenith and
horizon.

Lying outside the circle, in a larger, concentric ring, is the zone known
as the Light Country. Entirely free from the equatorial storms, no direct
rays of sunlight have ever penetrated its protecting cloud blanket. Here
exists the highest state of civilization on the planet.

Beyond the Light Country, in another concentric ring, lies the Twilight
Country. It forms a belt about the planet, beginning roughly at those
points at which the sun would appear only a short distance above the
horizon, and extending back to where the sun would be below the horizon.
In this region, as its name implies, there is never more than twilight. It
is lightest at the borders of the Light Country, and fades into night at
its other side.

Still farther, beyond the twilight zone, lies the region of perpetual
night and cold--the Dark Country. This area embraces the rest of the
planet, comprising something less than half of its entire surface. Here is
eternal night--a night of Stygian darkness, unlighted even by the stars,
since the same atmosphere makes them invisible.

The Dark Country, so far as it has been explored--which is very little--is
a rocky waste and a sea of solid ice that never melts. Near the borders of
the Twilight Country a few people like our Eskimos exist--savages with
huge white faces, and great, staring eyes. There are a few fur-bearing
animals and birds, but except for this fringe of life the Dark Country is
thought to be uninhabited, its terrible cold making life in any form
impossible.

So much, in general, for the main geographical features of Mercury. The
Great City stands about halfway between the borders of the Fire Country
and the edge of the twilight zone. This level marshland, the barren,
metallic mountains, and a sort of semitropic jungle, partly inundated by
water, comprise nearly all the area of the Light Country.

From the Great City, through the watery jungle, extends a system of little
winding bayous--a perfect maze of them, with hundreds of
intercommunicating branches--which it would be almost impossible to
traverse without losing all sense of direction.

Beyond these bayous, into which their sluggish currents flow, lies the
Narrow Sea. On its farther shore begins the Twilight Country, much of it a
barren, semifrigid waste, with a little level, tillable land, vast rocky
mountain ranges, and a few forests.

In spite of its inhospitable character the Twilight Country is fairly
densely populated; and, I realized when I got into it, civilized life is
exceedingly difficult to maintain there. I understood then why the
Twilight People were so envious of land in the Light Country; and, in
truth, I could not blame them for that, or for looking toward our earth
with longing.

But just as the Light Country People had defended their borders with
implacable determination, so was I determined that they should not invade
my world, either. And I was ready to stake my life and even the lives of
those I loved here on Mercury in the attempt to prevent them.



CHAPTER XVII.


THE FIGHT AT THE BAYOU.


Miela proceeded to explain our plan in detail to these fifteen hundred
enthusiastic allies. It was my idea to build several platforms similar to
this one on which Mercer and I had been carried up here into the
mountains, only somewhat larger. We then proposed to seize these
emissaries of Tao--there were not more than eight or ten of them
altogether in the Great City--capturing them at night, without alarm, if
possible, and transporting them summarily into the Twilight Country. My
theory was that if they were to disappear thus mysteriously the people of
the Great City would have no particular cause to make trouble afterward,
and we hoped that the affair would soon be forgotten.

Miela thought it practical for us to carry them in this way across the
Narrow Sea. The Lone City, from which Tao was operating, was located near
the edge of the sea, and if we gave them food they would be enabled to
reach it in safety in a day or two. The girls agreed enthusiastically with
this plan, and we selected a number to carry it out.

Meanwhile we planned also to organize a system of aÃ«rial patrols, and
detailed some two hundred of the girls, who in varying shifts were to fly
back and forth along the borders of the sea over its Light Country shore,
to make sure that Tao did not attempt to make a crossing by water.

"Can't they fly over as well as we can?" Mercer objected. "Their women
fly, too, don't they?"

The women of the Twilight Country did fly, but for two reasons we did not
fear an attack from them in the air. First, Miela doubted that the women
would concern themselves in the affair; they were stupid and
apathetic--fit only for child-bearing. The men might, of course, force
them to the attempt, but even in that event, Miela explained, it would
result in little; for generations of comparative inactivity and the colder
climate had made them inclined to stoutness. Their wing muscles were weak
and flabby, and with their greater weight of body they flew very badly.

"Suppose Tao should come over?" I suggested to Miela. "I don't believe he
will--but if he should, how could we stop him?"

"By water he would come," she answered. "In boats--small they are, I
think, those he has. We could not stop him, for the light-ray he would
bring. But our women, flying over the ocean, would see him coming, and
tell our king. More we could not do now."

"You mean this patrol would give the government the warning it won't
obtain for itself? There would be war then? The people would arm to resist
invasion?"

Miela smiled sadly.

"There would be war, Alan. But our government--our people--do not look for
it. They are like the peeta bird, that hides its head under its wing when
it is threatened."

The time of sleep was now nearly over, and we thought it best that the
girls should fly back at once, so that their arrival at the city would
cause as little comment as possible.

Mercer and I seated ourselves on the platform as before; the twenty girls
grasped its handles, raising it until they were all upon their feet; then,
at a signal, we left the ground. The trip back seemed shorter than coming
up. The girls all left the valley together, flying up helter-skelter, and
circling about us as we flew steadily onward.

Near the Great City the girls spread out, so as to approach it from
different directions and thus attract less attention, although the time of
sleep was not yet over and we knew that few would be stirring about the
city.

When we reached home we greeted Lua, and dismissed the girls, arranging
that they were to come back again that evening--fifty of them this
time--to carry the larger platform we were to build. We then had
breakfast, and after telling Lua the result of the meeting--at which she
was greatly pleased--we went immediately to bed, for we were worn out.

It was about noon, I suppose, when we awoke. Mercer and I spent the
afternoon building the platform on which to carry Tao's men--a framework
with fifty handles instead of twenty. Miela and Anina disappeared for the
whole afternoon. I did not know what they were doing at the time; later I
found out Anina was devoting it to learning English.

During the evening meal we planned it all. Tao's men were living in a
house near the edge of the city--the house Tao had occupied before he was
banished to the Twilight Country. It had no other occupants at this time.

We had learned where they kept their boats in one of the bayous near by,
and in it we intended to take them to the sea, where we would meet the
girls, who would then fly with them to the Twilight Country. But we could
not figure out how to capture them without alarming the city. We were sure
they were unarmed; they had been carefully searched by the authorities
when they entered the country. But they were ten to our two.

Mercer voiced the problem most emphatically.

"Ten men in a house," he declared. "Maybe we can catch them all asleep.
But even if they are, how are we going to get them out? There'd be a row,
and we don't want any noise. Besides, there's always this confounded
daylight here. If we tied them up somebody might see us when we got
outside. How do we get them out of that house without any rumpus, and down
to that boat? That's what I don't see."

"I--do--that," said Anina suddenly.

She had spoken in English, and we looked at her in amazement. She lisped
the words in her soft, sweet voice, haltingly, like a little child. Then
she turned to Miela and poured out a torrent of her native language.
Mercer stared at her in undisguised admiration.

As Miela explained it, Anina proposed that she go into Tao's house alone,
and decoy his men down to the boat where we could capture them.

"But how will she get them there?" I exclaimed. "What will she tell them?"

"She says she can make them think she is one of those few of our women who
sympathize with their cause," Miela explained. "And she will say that the
earth-man who escaped from them she has seen lurking about their boat;
perhaps he plans to steal it. She will go there with them, and they can
recapture him."

"They might not all go," said Mercer. "We want to get them all."

"It is Anina's thought that they will all go, for they fear this earth-man
much--and all would go to make sure of him."

I could not feel it was right for us to let Anina do so daring a thing,
and Mercer agreed with me heartily. But Anina insisted, with a fire in her
eyes and flushed cheeks that contrasted strangely with her usually gentle
demeanor.

In the end Mercer and I gave in, for we could think of no better plan, and
Miela was confident Anina would not be harmed.

It was about what would correspond with ten o'clock in the evening on
earth when the girls began to arrive. We waited until all fifty of them
had come in. Miela named a place on the shore of the sea known to them
all. They were to take the platform--starting in about two hours, when the
city would be quiet--and there they would wait for us to join them in the
boat.

We four started out together, but soon Anina left us to make her way to
Tao's house alone. Mercer, Miela and I then hurried as fast as we could
through the city down to the marshlands, and to the secluded spot on the
bayou's bank where the boat was lying.

The bayou here was about a hundred feet wide, a winding, brackish stream,
lined on both sides with trees whose roots were in the water and whose
branches at times nearly met overhead. Its banks were a tangled mass of
tree roots, huge ferns, palmettos and some tall upstanding kind of water
grass. Half submerged logs jutted out into the sluggish current, making it
in places seem almost impassable.

A narrow metal boat--a very long and very narrow motor boat with a
thatched shelter like a small cabin over part of its length--lay fastened
to a tree near at hand. I noticed at once some mechanism over its stern.

We had come up quietly to make sure no one was about. Now we hid ourselves
close to the boat and waited with apprehension in our hearts for the
arrival of Anina with Tao's men.

Half an hour, perhaps, went by. The silence in this secluded spot hung
heavy about us. A fish broke the glassy surface of the water; a lizard
scurried along the ground; a bird flitted past. Then, setting our hearts
pounding, came the soft snapping of underbrush that we knew was the
cautious tread of some one approaching. I was half reclining under a
fallen tree, with a clump of palmettos about me. I parted their fronds
carefully before my face. A few yards away a man was standing motionless,
staring past me and apparently listening intently.

He moved forward after a moment. I feared he was coming almost upon us,
but he turned aside, bending low down as he crept slowly forward. Sounds
in the underbrush reached me now from other directions, and I knew that
the men had spread apart and were stalking the boat, expecting Mercer to
be in or near it.

Had they all come down here? I wondered. And where was Anina? I looked
down at Miela warningly as I felt her move slightly.

"We'll wait till they're all near the boat," I whispered to Mercer.

I saw Anina a moment later soaring over the bayou just above the treetops.
I sighed with relief, for it was a signal to us that everything was all
right. We continued to wait until the men had all come into view. They
went at the boat with a sudden rush. Several of them climbed into it, with
shouts to the others.

With a significant glance to Mercer I leaped suddenly to my feet. I was
perhaps twenty feet from the boat, and the space between us was fairly
clear. A single bound landed me beside it, almost among four of the men
who were standing there in a group. Before they had time to face me I was
upon them.

I scattered them like nine-pins, and two of them went down under my blows.
The other two flung themselves upon me. I stumbled over some inequality of
the ground, and we all three fell prone. This was the first time I had
come actually to hand grips with any of the Mercutians.

I felt now not only their lack of strength, but a curious frailness about
their bodies--a seeming absence of solidity that their stocky appearance
belied. These two men were like half-grown boys in my hands. I was back on
my feet in a moment, leaving one of them lying motionless. The other rose
to his knees, his face white with pain and terror.

I left him there and looked about me. Miela was fluttering around near by,
as I had instructed her--just off the ground and with the whole scene
under her eyes. It was she on whom I depended for warning should any of
the quarry attempt to escape us.

At the edge of the water another man was lying, whom I assumed Mercer had
felled. There was a great commotion from the boat. I ran toward it. A man
was standing beside it--an old man with snow-white hair. He stood still,
seeming confused and in doubt what to do. As I neared him he turned
clumsily to avoid me. I passed him by and bounded over the boat's gunwale,
landing in its bottom. The first thing I saw was Mercer struggling to his
feet with four of the Mercutians hanging on him. One had a grip on his
throat from behind; another clutched him about the knees.

The two others let go of him when they heard me land in the boat. One had
evidently had enough, for he dived overboard. The other waited warily for
my onslaught. As I got within reach I hit at his face, but my blow went
wild. He hit me full in the chest, but it was the blow of a child.

At that instant I heard Mercer give a choking cry, and out of the corner
of my eye saw him go down again. I could waste no more time upon this
single antagonist. The man had his hands at my throat now. I seized him
about the waist and carried him to the gunwale. He clung to me as a rat
might cling to a terrier, but I shook him off and dumped him in the water.

I turned to Mercer just as he was struggling to his feet again, and in a
moment more between us we had felled his two assailants. Mercer's face was
very white, and I saw blood streaming from a wound on his head; but he
grinned as he faced me.

"Have we--got 'em--all?" he gasped. He dashed the blood away from his eyes
with the flat of his hand. "I fell--damn it--right at the start, and hit
my head. Where are they all? Have we got 'em?"

Miela alighted in the boat beside us.

"Two are running," she said. "They are together. Hasten."

We jumped out of the boat. Miela flew up, and we followed her guidance
through the dense woods. We could make much better speed, I knew, than the
Mercutians. "We'll get them all, Ollie," I shouted at Mercer. "They're not
far ahead. See up there--Miela's evidently over them now."

We came up to them after a few hundred yards. It was the old man, and one
of those whom I had first encountered. They did not wait for us to attack
them, but stopped stock still, flinging their arms wide in token of
surrender.

Miela came down among us, and we went back to where we had lain hidden in
the palmettos. There we had left a number of short lengths of rope. While
we were tying the arms of these two prisoners behind them and fettering
their ankles so they could not run Anina joined us.

"Two--in water," she cried; and then added something to Miela.

"Two were in the water. Now they are in the woods, running. Anina will
show you."

Miela stood guard in the boat over our first two prisoners, while Mercer
and I rounded up the others. It was half an hour or more before we had
them all trussed up, but none of the ten escaped. We were a long time
reviving two of those we had injured, but finally we had them all lying or
sitting in the boat.

Mercer's head had stopped bleeding. He washed it, and I found his injury
no more than an ugly scalp wound.

"I fell and cut it on something," he explained lugubriously. "Couldn't see
for the blood in my eyes. But we got 'em, didn't we?"

Under Miela's direction Mercer and I shoved the boat out into the stream.
I need not go into details regarding the propelling mechanism of this
craft. Miela explained it hastily to me as we got under way. It used a
form of the light-ray from a sort of strange battery. The intense heat of
the ray generated a great pressure of superheated steam in a thick metal
cylinder underneath the keel.

This steam escaped through a nozzle under water at the stern of the boat,
and its thrust against the water propelled the boat forward. The boat was
constructed to draw very little water, and when going fast its bow planed
upward until only the stern of the hull touched the surface. It was
steered by a rudder not much different from some of those types we are
familiar with on earth. When we got out into open water I found the boat
was capable of great speed. This I attributed not so much to the efficacy
of its propelling force as to the lightness of the boat itself. It was
built of some metal that I may perhaps compare with aluminium, only this
was far stronger and lighter. The boat was, in fact, a mere shell,
extraordinarily buoyant.

Miela sat in the stern, steering and operating the mechanism. I sat with
her. Mercer was farther forward, beside Anina, talking to her earnestly.
Our prisoners lay huddled in various attitudes--frightened, all of them,
and obviously in no condition to give us further trouble. They were, I saw
now, not ruffians by any means, but rather men of superior intelligence,
selected by Tao evidently as those best fitted for spreading his
propaganda among the people of the Great City.

We made slow progress down the bayou. Some of its turns were so sharp and
so overhung with trees, and obstructed by fallen logs, we could hardly get
through. During the latter part of the trip the bayou broadened rapidly,
dividing into many channels like a delta.

We came out into the open sea finally--a broad, empty expanse, with a
mirrorlike surface. The curvature of the planet was even more apparent
now; it seemed almost as though the water should be sliding back downhill
over the horizon.

We turned to the left as we came out of the delta, and for the first time
Miela put the boat to the limit of its speed. The best comparison I can
make, I think, to this rapid, noiseless, smooth progress, is that of
sailing on an iceboat.

We sped along some five or ten miles, keeping close inland. I saw some of
the small thatched shacks along here, though not many. For a while the
shore remained that same palm-lined, half-inundated marshland. Then
gradually it began to change, and we came upon a broad beach of white
sand.

We landed here, and found the girls with the platform waiting for us.
Miela took Anina and one or two of the older girls aside, and gave them
last instructions.

"What do I do--just dump them on the other shore?" Mercer asked me.

"That's about it. I don't know the lay of the land over there. Anina does.
You do what she tells you."

"You bet I will," he agreed enthusiastically. "Some kid--that little girl.
We get along fine. She understands everything I say to her already. I'll
have her talking English like a streak by the time you see her again."

We had removed the cords from our prisoners' ankles. I motioned them to
get out of the boat. We crowded Tao's men on the platform. They were
surprised, and some of them alarmed, when they saw how we proposed to
transport them over the water. Miela silenced their protests, and soon we
had them all seated on the platform, with Mercer at the rear end facing
them.

The fifty girls grasped the platform handles. Another moment and they were
in the air, with Mercer waving good-by to us vigorously.

Miela and I, left alone, watched them silently as they dwindled to a speck
in the haze of the sky.

We were about to start back when we saw a girl coming toward us, flying
low over the water. One of those we had directed to patrol the coast,
Miela said when she came closer. She saw us, and came down on the beach.

The two girls spoke together hurriedly.

"Tao's men in the Water City have caused great disturbance, Alan," Miela
said to me.

"Where's the Water City?"

"Near the Great City--across the marshlands. We must get back. And when
Anina and our friend Ollie have returned we must go to the Water City. It
is very bad there, she said."

Our trip back to the Great City was without unusual incident. We followed
the main route at the best speed we could make.

"We shall tell our king, of course, about this disturbance," said Miela.
"Perhaps he will think there is something he can do. But I fear greatly
that unless he appeals directly to the people, and they are with him--"

"He's an old man," I said, "and all his councilors are old. They're not
fit to rule at such a time as this. Suppose he were to die--what would
happen? Who would be king then?"

"A little prince there is--a mere child. And there is our queen--a younger
woman, only married to our king these few years. His first queen died."

I questioned Miela concerning her government. It was, I soon learned, an
autocracy in theory. But of later years the king's advanced age, and his
equally old councilors whom he refused to change, had resulted in a
vacillating policy of administration, which now, I could see plainly, left
the government little or no real power.

Only by constantly pandering to the wishes of the people could the king
hold his throne. The supreme command was held by the king and his aged
councilors. At stated intervals the more prominent men of each city met
and enacted laws. The cities were each ruled by a governor in similar
fashion, paying tribute to the central government somewhat after our old
feudal system; but for practical purposes they acted as separate nations.
They were united merely by the bonds of their common need of defense
against the Twilight People, and of intermarriage, which was frequent,
since the virgins, flying about, often found mates in cities other than
their own.

There were courts in each city, not much more than rude tribunals, and
jails in which the offenders were held. The police I have already
mentioned. They, like the king's guards, were inclined in an emergency to
do, not so much what they were ordered, as what they thought the people
wished.

It was all very extraordinary, but like many another makeshift government
it served, after a fashion.

Hiding the boat in another bayou, we took our way home on foot. That is to
say, I ran, and Miela followed me, alternately flying and walking. We made
our best speed this way, and very soon were back at home in the Great
City.

We crossed the garden and entered the front door, expecting to find Lua in
the living room, but she was not there. The house was quiet.

"She would wait up, she told me," Miela said, and, raising her voice,
called her mother's name.

There was no answer, although now I remember I thought I heard a footfall
upstairs.

We went up to Lua's room hurriedly. It was empty, and our loud cries of
anxiety throughout the house evoked no response. We entered our own
bedroom, and before I could make a move to defend myself I was seized
tightly by both elbows from behind.

At the same instant an arm hooked around my neck under my chin and jerked
my head backward, and another pair of arms clutched me around the knees. I
struggled vainly to free myself, shouting to Miela to run.

But there were too many holding me. A moment more and my arms were tied
behind me and a rope was about my legs. I was pushed into a chair, and as
I sat down I saw Miela standing quietly near by, with two Mercutians
holding her by the arms and shoulders.

The man who had pushed me to the seat bent down and struck me across the
cheek with the flat of his hand. His grinning, malevolent face was only a
few inches from mine. I saw that it was Baar!



CHAPTER XVIII.


REVOLUTION.


There seemed to be five of our captors, all of them as evil-looking men as
I think I have ever seen. They rummaged about the room, evidently in
search for weapons they thought I might have secreted. Then they ordered
me to stand up, and without more ado led Miela and me from the house.

This was once when I was glad of the interminable daylight. I hoped we
might find some early risers about the streets, for I thought certainly
the time of sleep must now be nearly over. But no one was in sight as we
left the garden. We turned the first corner and headed toward the base of
the mountain.

"To Baar's house they are taking us, I think. It is on the marshland
below." Miela spoke without fear of our captors understanding the English
words. We took advantage of this until after a moment we were roughly
ordered to be quiet.

Lua, we thought, must have been taken away before we arrived; we would
find her at Baar's house when we arrived there. We had come down to the
level marshlands now, the outskirts of the city, and were passing along a
path between occasional shacks. Before us, standing alone in a rice paddy,
I saw a larger, more pretentious house--a wooden structure on stilts, with
a thatched roof, which Miela said was where Baar lived.

We went in single file up its board incline, and entered a squalid room
with matting on the floor, a rude charcoal brazier at one side, and the
remains of a previous meal lying on a table.

Two women were in the room as we entered. I took these to be Baar's wife
and a servant. Two naked little children lay on the floor, one of them
crying lustily.

Baar glanced around as he came in, and with what I took to be an oath
ordered the children removed from the room. The slave woman--I could see
she was a slave by the band upon her arm--picked them up. Evidently she
did not move fast enough to suit Baar's temper, for as she straightened up
the man cuffed her upon the head. She stumbled to one side against Baar's
wife, who was standing there, and the other woman, with a sharp
imprecation, struck her full in the breast.

Neither of them saw the look she gave as she shuffled away, carrying the
infants; but I did. It was a look of the most intense hatred, born and
nourished, I realized, by long ill-treatment.

Miela and I were now bound securely hand and foot, and Miela's wings were
lashed to her body. Thus rendered entirely helpless, we were laid together
in a corner.

From the talk that followed Miela gathered that Baar and his men were
expecting the arrival of others. He roughly ordered his wife--a woman of
the Twilight Country, obviously--to clear away the remains of their last
meal and bring other food. She obeyed submissively.

This, the first of the Twilight Country People I had seen, was a thick-set
woman of perhaps thirty-five, although she might have been older, for her
black hair, which fell in an unkempt mass to her waist, was beginning to
gray. She wore a single garment, a pair of silken trousers, drab with
dirt. Her clipped wings were covered in the usual way.

I could see now why Miela had said these Twilight women could not fly, for
this woman's torso was fat and flabby. Her skin was curiously pale--a
dead, unpleasant white. Her face was broad, heavy and unintelligent. Her
eyes were large and protruded slightly.

Baar and his men ate breakfast, paying no further attention to Miela and
me. Suddenly Miela spoke in a frightened whisper. "They are going now in a
moment to the castle. The king they will kill!"

It was evidently a widespread plot we now overheard. Baar's followers had
for some time been talking quietly with the lower classes, and, finding
they could count on their support, planned now to murder the king. Then
with the queen and the little prince held as hostages, they expected that
the men of science, threatened also with a revolt of the peons, would
release the light-ray.

The light-ray once in his control, Baar could make himself king. It seemed
an absurd hope, but such was the plan they were now discussing. And what
was far worse, I could see no way by which I could prevent the attempt.

"They are going to the castle--now--to murder the king?" I whispered,
incredulous.

"Yes," Miela answered. "So they plan. Now--in a moment--before the time of
sleep is over."

"Isn't he guarded? Can they get in the castle without arousing others?"

"There are the guards--a few. But Baar has promised them great wealth, and
they will stand aside and let him pass. So it is arranged."

The arrival of several other men interrupted our whispered conversation.
Baar, his meal over, consulted with them hurriedly. He then instructed his
wife to watch us, and after a moment they all left the house.

The woman, who was now the only occupant of the room with us, shuffled
about, clearing away the meal. I tried desperately to work my hands loose;
I even tried with my teeth to gnaw Miela's bonds, but without success.
Every moment counted, if we were to do anything to save the king. I
wondered again where Lua was--perhaps in another part of the house here,
bound as we were.

"Miela," I whispered, "ask for food. Tell her we have had nothing for many
hours. Perhaps she will loosen our bonds a little to let us eat. We may be
able to do something then."

The woman answered Miela's pleading by setting us up side by side, with
our backs against the wall. She placed food before us, and then, with a
knife, cut the cords that bound our arms.

My heart leaped exultantly; but, instead of leaving us and going on with
her work, she sat down just out of reach, holding the knife in her hand
and watching us narrowly.

"We must eat, Miela," I said, using as casual a tone as I could and
pointing to the food smilingly. "Eat, and pretend not to notice her.
Perhaps I can get to my feet."

We ate the food she had given us. I tensed the muscles of my legs, and
believed that, bound as I was, I might be able to leap forward and reach
the woman. It was almost hopeless to attempt it, for I realized she would
meet my body with the dagger point.

We were still eating, and I was thinking over this plan, when the slave
woman appeared silently in a doorway across the room, behind the woman who
faced us. Something in her attitude made me look away again casually and
go on with my eating.

Miela had evidently not noticed her.

The slave woman came slowly toward us. A moment later she hurled herself
upon Baar's wife from behind. At the same instant I threw myself forward,
falling prone, but within reach of the seated woman. I gripped her with my
hands, fumbling to catch her wrists, but before I could succeed she
toppled forward and fell partly over me.

I heard Miela give a cry of fright. I struggled free and raised myself up
to a half-sitting position. Baar's wife lay beside me dead, with the slave
woman's knife buried to the hilt in her back.

Reaching over, I took the knife from the dead woman's fingers, and with it
cut the cords that bound my ankles. I sprang to my feet. The slave had
retreated and stood shrinking against the side of the room, terrified at
what she had done. I paid no more attention to her for the moment, but
hastened to release Miela.

We searched the house hurriedly, calling to Lua; but she did not answer,
nor could we find her. When we returned the slave woman was still standing
where we had left her, staring with horrified eyes at the body of her
mistress.

"Tell her what she did was right," I said. "She may have saved the king.
Tell her to go to your house and wait for us."

The woman nodded eagerly when Miela told her what to do, and fell on her
knees before us.

"She says she will serve us always. She has been very badly treated,
Alan."

We sent the woman away, and with a last hasty glance around hurriedly left
the house alone with its single dead occupant. A large wooden mortar and
pestle, used for pounding rice, stood in the kitchen. I carried the pestle
away with me; it was nearly five feet long and quite heavy--an excellent
weapon.

We hastened up through the city--Miela half walking, half flying, and I
carrying this bludgeon and running with twelve-foot strides. But it was
now hardly more than three-quarters of an hour since we had passed this
way before, and there were still few people about to see us. Baar and his
men had started some twenty minutes before us, I figured, and we must
reach the castle before them.

I made extraordinary progress over the level country. But I could not run
uphill for long, and soon had to slow down to a walk. Miela kept closer to
me now. We approached the castle grounds.

"Where will the guards be, Miela? We must avoid them if we can. They might
try to stop us."

Miela did not know where they would be; but under the circumstances, as
Baar had told his men, she believed the guards would disappear from the
vicinity. This conjecture proved to be correct. The guards, not wishing to
be concerned in the affair at all, had simply disappeared. We saw nothing
of Baar and his men on the way up the mountain, although I had hoped we
might overtake them.

As we passed hurriedly through the palm gardens surrounding the castle I
saw its huge front doors were closed.

"Miela, we can't get in that way. A side entrance--or some other way--"

"I know," she said. "There is a smaller door below, and others on the
side."

We hastened on. Suddenly I gripped Miela by the arm.

"What's that--over there--see, beyond the grove?"

There seemed to be furtive figures lurking among the palms.

"Those cannot be Baar's men, Miela--there are too many. What can it--"

We had reached a little doorway under the front terrace. There was no time
to investigate these advancing figures. Baar and his men might already be
inside the castle.

I slid through the doorway, every muscle tense. Miela had brought the
knife from Baar's shack, and with it clenched in her hand was close beside
me. I wanted to make her stay outside, where she could fly away if danger
threatened, but she pleaded to follow me, and I let her come. I needed
her, since I had no idea of the interior arrangements of the building.

We passed along a dim hallway and up a narrow flight of stone steps. Not a
sound came to us; the interior of the castle was silent as a tomb. At the
top of the steps we came almost directly into the inner patio of the
building. Across a bed of tall flowers, nodding gently in a little morning
breeze that swept down from above, I saw the head and shoulders of a man
standing in the center of the courtyard; the lower part of his body was
hidden by the flowers. I tried to duck out of sight, but he had seen me.

He was not over forty feet away. I stepped back, believing I could reach
him in a single leap; but Miela held me.

"Not you, Alan. He would cry out. The noise would bring others." She
raised her knife, and her eyes blazed into mine. "Never have I thought to
kill a human. But now I--a woman--must kill. Stand quiet, Alan."

She flew swiftly up and poised over the man. He had started toward us.
Evidently he was, so far, as anxious for silence as we, for he made no
sound. I saw now he was one of those who had come to Baar's shack. His
naked shoulders, his thick neck, and bullet head were all that showed
above the flower stems as he plowed his way through them directly toward
me; but the hand he swung aloft to aid his progress held a knife.

He glanced up at Miela, poised in the air above him, and saw the weapon in
her hand. At this new enemy he stopped, confused.

Miela swooped down at him, and he struck at her with his knife; but she
avoided it with an incredibly swift turn, and a second later had passed
him and was crossing the courtyard.

Round and round she flew, her great wings flapping audibly, a giant bird
circling its prey. The man turned continually to face her. Several times
she swooped toward him, and as swiftly avoided his blow. From every side
she threatened. The man stood now bewildered, striking wild in a frenzy,
as one strikes at a darting wasp. At last, with an agonized cry, he turned
and ran. Instantly she dropped upon him; there was a flash of her white
arm; the man's body crumpled and lay still among the flowers.

Miela was back beside me. Her breast was heaving; her eyes were full of
tears; she trembled.

"A terrible thing, Alan, my husband, for a woman to do; but it had to be."

I pressed her hand with silent understanding.

"Come, Alan," she said. "They will have heard his cry. The others--we must
meet them, too."

"We must get to the king. I--"

A vibrant scream rang out from the silence of the house--a man's voice,
shrill with agony--then suddenly stilled.

"Good God, Miela! The king--where is he? Take me there."

She pulled me back through the doorway. A man scurried past. I leaped at
him and struck him a glancing blow with the heavy wooden pestle. He
stumbled to his knees. Without thought of giving quarter, I hit him again
before he could rise. He sank back, senseless or dead.

Miela was ahead of me, and I ran after her along a hallway. The sound of
scurrying footsteps sounded from overhead; a woman screamed.

A broad, curving stairway fronted us. I passed Miela halfway up, and,
reaching the top, ran full into another man who darted from a doorway
close by. The impact of my heavier body flung him backward to the floor. I
leaped over him with a shout of warning to Miela, and ran on into the
room.

A man was standing stock still in its center. It was Baar. He flung his
knife at me as I appeared, but it went wild. Two other men were coming
toward me from opposite sides of the room. I swung the bludgeon about me
viciously, keeping them away. Suddenly Baar shouted a command, and before
I could reach any one of them they had scurried away like rats.

A low bed with a huge canopy of silk stood against the wall. A woman knelt
on the floor beside it, and against her knees huddled a little half-grown
boy.

I heard Miela's voice shouting in her own language. The sound of men
running came from below. Then Miela's half-hysterical laughter, and then
the words: "They are running away, Alan--all of them. I have been calling
you to bring me the light-ray. And they are running away."

I turned to the bed, pushing its curtains aside, and then hurriedly
closing them again with a shudder.

Miela was beside me.

"The king is dead, Miela. No--you must not look."

Her eyes widened; her hand went to her breast.

"There is one who needs you." I pointed to the woman on the floor.

She was staring at us, unseeing, one arm flung about the child
protectingly, holding him partially under one of her long, sleek red
wings. The fingers of her other hand clutched convulsively at the bed
coverings; she was moaning softly with a grief and terror all the more
intense because it was restrained.

"There is one who needs you, Miela," I repeated. "Comfort her--for we have
come too late."

The castle now was in thorough confusion. Several waiting maids rushed
into the room, stared at their mistress and the little prince, and, seeing
what had happened, stood silently wringing their hands in fright, or fled
aimlessly through the halls. One of the king's councilors had come in,
stopping, bewildered, at the scene that met him.

"Tell him what has occurred, Miela," I said.

There came now faintly to my ears from outside the castle sounds of a
gathering crowd--murmurs and vague muffled shouts. The cries grew louder.
A rain of missiles struck the castle; a stone came through a near-by
window, falling almost at my feet. All at once I remembered the lurking
figures we had seen among the palms in the garden.

"Miela!" I cried. "Hear that, outside! A crowd is gathering. The men we
saw--out there! People whom Baar has--Miela, ask him, for God's sake, to
tell us how we can get weapons. Where are the other councilors? Send for
them. We must do something--now, at once. This is revolution, Miela--don't
you understand? Revolution!"

I felt so impotent. Here in this crisis I could talk to no one but
Miela--could issue no direct commands--could understand the words of no
one but her.

Suddenly, from over our heads, a great, solemn deep-throated bell began
tolling.

"What is that? What does that mean?"

A girl rushed into the room.

"It is the bell of danger," said Miela quickly. "The girls are ringing it
to arouse the city. Up here then will the people hurry to find out what it
is that threatens."

"They're outside now," I retorted. "Order all the king's councilors here
at once. Find out if any guards are about the place. Send them here. Where
is the head of the city's police? Send him here to me! Tell him to call
out all his men."

What was I saying? I had forgotten the one vital thing!

"Miela! The light-ray! These men of science who guard it, where are they?
Send for their leader. Get him here to me at once--we must have the ray!"

Miela stood very quietly beside me. Her face was white; her eyes blazed,
but she seemed calm and unfrightened.

"He will come," she said, "and armed with the ray. The bell will bring
him. Your other commands I will see are obeyed."

The old councilor, who had been standing by, dazed, came slowly forward at
Miela's call. The king's councilor! And all the others were like him. The
king was dead, and here was the little prince huddled in his mother's arm!
Realization had been slow in coming, but now it broke upon me like a great
light.

I flung the bludgeon away from me, and stood erect.

"Miela," I cried, "tell him--tell them all--their king is dead. It is _I_
who command now. There is no one else--and I have the power. Tell them
that. It is I, the man from earth, who commands!"



CHAPTER XIX.


THE NEW RULER.


The solemn bell continued pealing out its knell; the shouts and tumult
outside were growing louder. Miela spoke hurriedly to the old man, then
turned to leave the room.

"Your commands shall be obeyed, my husband," she said quietly.

I felt again that sudden sense of helplessness as I saw her leave.

"Be careful, Miela. Order every one in the castle to the roof. Here! Tell
the queen before you go. Send every one up there with me. The mob may come
in. We'll make our stand up there."

I understood Baar's plot better now. He had gathered his mob of peons to
surround the castle and make a demonstration in his favor. Then, with the
king dead and the queen and her little son held by him and his men--their
lives as forfeits--he hoped to be able to treat with the men of science
who controlled the light-ray, and who, I did not doubt, represented the
better element among the people.

It seemed a mad plan at best; and now that it had gone wrong, I wondered
what Baar would attempt to do. Evidently he and his henchmen had all left
the castle, fearing the light-ray, which Miela pretended I held. They were
outside now, among the mob, I assumed. Would the mob attempt to enter?

Miela hurried away to send every one inside the building to its roof. The
queen, following Miela's commands unquestioningly, took the little prince
by the hand and, signing to me to follow, led me upstairs.

There was only one stairway leading to the roof, I found with
satisfaction, and it was narrow--an excellent place for defense. The roof
was broad and flat, flanked at the ends by two towers which rose
considerably above it.

It was a frightened little group who gathered about me--the queen and her
son, two of the king's councilors, and perhaps half a dozen young girls
whom I took to be the queen's attendants. Others came up each moment.

I sat the queen down on a little white stone bench in the center of the
garden, and bowed before her respectfully. Then I smiled upon them all. I
think they were reassured and trusted me, and I found my commands were
obeyed without question.

The queen was a woman of perhaps thirty-five--tall and slender, with black
hair and eyes. She was dressed in a single garment of heavy white silk, a
dress that fell ungathered at the waist from above her breast under the
arms to her ankles. It was, I judged, her sleeping robe. Her hair hung in
two long braids over her shoulders; her feet were incased in sandals.

She was unquestionably a beautiful woman. I remember my vague surprise, as
I saw her, with her son by her side, and her long sleek wings unmutilated.
And then I saw that her wings were fastened together in two places by
little metal chains. She, then, like other married women, was not
permitted to fly, although the beauty of her wings was unspoiled.

I sent two of the old men to stand by the head of the stairs. Miela had
given me her knife, and I handed it now to one of them, trying to make him
understand that he was to bar the passage of any one who should not be
allowed up. He shuddered, but he took the knife and stood where I
indicated.

The crowd in the garden below had seen us on the roof now, and the tumult
of shouts was doubled. I went to the parapet and looked over.

The garden was full of a struggling, confused mass of people. Those
nearest the castle were mostly peons. I noticed men and a few women armed
with various implements of agriculture, and any sort of rude weapon they
could obtain. They were standing about in little groups or rushing
excitedly to and fro in aimless, uncommanded activity.

Many of them held stones in their hands, which occasionally they cast at
the building. It was one of those mobs that gather ready for trouble, is
swayed in almost any direction by any chance leadership, and most
frequently accomplishes nothing.

I felt a sudden sense of relief. The garden was rapidly filling up with
men and women of the more intelligent classes, who mingled with the
others, learned what had occurred--for I did not doubt but that the
knowledge of the king's death had spread about--and then stood waiting to
see what would happen.

The air was full of excited girls flying over the castle. A few alighted
for a moment on the roof, but I did not fear them. Where was Baar? I could
not hope to distinguish him among the crowd, but still I saw no sign of
his leadership. Had he seen the failure of his plan and, fearing the
results of his regicide, fled the vicinity? I hoped so fervently.

As I showed myself at the parapet a great shout arose. Some of the men--I
knew at once it was those who had heard I possessed the
light-ray--scattered in terror at my appearance. I determined then, if no
issue were raised that would demand my using this supposed weapon, I could
continue to command the situation.

I stood there a moment looking down. At the edge of the crowd I saw a few
figures whom I took to be members of the city's police. They were standing
idle, taking no part in what was going on. There seemed nothing I could do
until Miela returned. If only I could speak to the crowd! I wondered if I
dared descend among them and disperse the mob of peons. I went to the head
of the stairway. Three or four of the king's councilors were standing
there.

There was no one on the stairs; evidently every one living in the castle
was now on its roof--some thirty of them altogether. The crowd outside
quite evidently had no present intention of entering the building. The mob
of peons Baar had gathered were greatly in the minority now, and I felt
that matters were steadily improving. I wondered where Miela was, and then
while I was standing there I saw her coming up the stairs, a man following
close behind her.

I think I have never been so glad to see any one as I was to see her at
this moment. Her face was grave; her demeanor calm, as before.

"He is here," she said as she came to the head of the stairs. "This is
Fuero, Alan, leader of the men of science, who have the ray."

As he came out onto the roof I saw this man was easily the most dominant
personality I had so far encountered on Mercury. He was tall for his race,
although several inches shorter than I, a man of sixty, perhaps, with
iron-gray hair falling long about his ears.

He wore sandals and a pair of the usual knee-length, wide-cut trousers.
But what distinguished him in his dress was a broad panel of heavy silk,
hanging from neck to knee, both in back and front, with an opening at the
top through which his head was thrust. This silken panel was some eighteen
inches wide, light gray in color, and richly embroidered in gold in
various designs. It hung free, except for a slight fastening at the waist
line. Beneath it the man's naked torso--and his bare arms--showed
powerfully muscled.

His face was smooth shaven, with strong, regular features. I noticed, too,
there was a slight cleft in his square chin. His forehead was high, his
blue eyes kindly, yet with a searching, piercing quality about them.

It was not so much the man's general appearance as his bearing that made
me realize he was a forceful character. There was about him unmistakable
poise. I knew at once he felt his power, his authority. That he would use
it wisely I could not doubt.

He stood regarding me gravely--an appraising regard under which I felt
myself flushing a little. Miela spoke to him swiftly, and he inclined his
head to me by way of introduction, his glance meanwhile taking in the
scene on the roof.

With Miela as interpreter we held a hurried conversation. I learned then
that Fuero and his associates had many years before organized a society
for the development of the light-ray in its various forms. They had soon
realized in their experiments its diabolical power of destruction, and had
taken oath then that they would not use it, or allow it to be used, except
under the most critical circumstances of the nation's welfare.

Realizing, too, the power it gave them as individuals, they had sworn to
remain men of science only, taking no part in public affairs, remaining
rigidly aloof from all national affairs. Most of their work concerned the
development of the light-ray for industrial purposes. In these forms it
developed heat, but had very little power of projection.

All this Miela told me in a few brief sentences.

"How did Tao get the ray?" I demanded.

"Some members of the society proved false," she answered. "When Tao was
banished to the Twilight Country they deserted their brothers and joined
him. There were others with him of scientific mind, and these soon learned
how to make it, too."

Fuero was still regarding me appraisingly. I felt suddenly very young,
very inadequate as I stood there facing him. But I met his gaze squarely,
and all at once he smiled.

"He says, 'Let us speak to the people,'" said Miela.

We went to the parapet. Only a few moments had elapsed since I had stood
there before. The situation below was unchanged, except that the crowd had
grown denser.

A sudden hush fell as they saw us. Fuero turned to me and spoke quietly;
his eyes seemed searching out my thoughts.

"He asks you, my husband, if you will take oath before your God to do what
is right for our people. He wishes to trust you now in this crisis, for
there is no one else, and he believes in you."

"I will, Miela," I said solemnly. "Before God I swear it."

The man gazed steadily into my eyes another instant, then abruptly he
thrust a small metal cylinder into my hand. I thrilled as my fingers
closed around it. He seemed to hesitate, then he turned and, slowly
crossing the rooftop, looking neither to right nor left, he descended the
stairs out of our sight.

He had done what he thought was best, and, having done it, had withdrawn
immediately from further participation in the affair.

It may have been the absence of his dominant personality, or the grasp of
my hand about this little metal cylinder, but now I felt a renewed sense
of responsibility, and with it a feeling of power that swept aside all
doubts and all fears. Now I could command, could guide and control, the
destiny of this nation, and could, thank God, save my own world.

"Miela," I said, "tell the queen her son shall be king. I am about to
proclaim him king before the people, and I, as regent, will rule. Tell her
that, and bring him here now to me."

The queen made no answer, save a slight inclination of her head. But I saw
that she had recovered composure. She pushed her son gently away from
her, and I strode forward to meet him.

"Tell him, Miela, he is a man now, and must have no fear, for he is the
greatest man in all this land."

I patted his shoulder as he stood beside me, and he looked up into my face
and smiled bravely.

The top of the parapet was flat and broad. I raised the little boy up and
stood him upon it. Instantly another tumult of shouts arose.

I looked down and saw the figure of Fuero as he stalked unheeding across
the garden, the people respectfully opening up a path before his advance.

Approval and derision seemed mingled in the cries that greeted the
appearance of the little prince.

"Quiet them if you can, Miela," I said. "Speak to them."

I steadied the boy with my hand, and he stood there unafraid, a sturdy,
manly little figure.

Miela raised her voice and began speaking. The shouts partially ceased,
then suddenly a stone struck the parapet almost in front of us.

A sudden rage possessed me. I fumbled at the cylinder I held. It was very
much like a little hand flashlight, and seemed to have a knob at my thumb.
Miela stopped speaking and turned to me.

"There--press that, Alan. Careful! Aim it there! See! Over there against
those palms."

I held the thing up and pointed it toward the huge royal palms, aiming at
their graceful fronds high over the heads of the people. My hand pressed
the knob; the little cylinder seemed to thrill in my grasp. A tiny beam of
light shot out-quite plainly visible--a green, shading into red. It struck
the palm branches, and silently yet rapidly, as though they were under
some giant blow-torch, they shriveled, crackled, and burst into flame.

Miela's fingers bit into my arm. "Enough, Alan! Stop!"

My thumb yielded to the upward pressure of the tiny knob against it, and
abruptly the light vanished. A narrow swath had been cut through the
palms--a furrow of death plowed by the pressure of my thumb against a bit
of metal!

The crowd had frozen into the immobility of terror. Now, as the dreaded
ray vanished as suddenly as it had sprung forth, they turned with cries of
fright to escape. No one had been hurt. I shuddered as I realized now that
many girls had been in the air, and through no thought or skill of mine
had they escaped.

"Speak to them, Alan," Miela cried. "There must be no panic. Here must
they stay and listen to what you have to say. Speak to them; stop them
now."

I handed her the cylinder, lest the diabolical thing spit forth again its
fire from my unskillful fingers, and leaped to the top of the parapet.

"Stop!" I shouted at the top of my voice. "Stop--all of you! At once!"

I waved my arms violently: I knew my words meant nothing, but my voice
carried far. The excitement continued. But a few stopped and stared at me;
then others, and gradually there was less confusion.

Miela turned and shouted something to the girls on the rooftop. Instantly
they spread their wings and flew, down, circling close over the heads of
the people.

"Wait, Alan. A moment now and there will be quiet. The girls are telling
them not to fear, but to wait and listen to what you have to say."

Miela stood now upon the parapet top, with the little prince between us.
She had concealed the tiny metal cylinder in her belt; her open palms were
flung out before her, and her wings, spread and flapping slowly, raised
her on tiptoe. Every line of her graceful body was tense; her attitude
bespoke power, dominance, authority. And then she began to talk in a voice
vibrant with emotion. Once she laid her hand lightly upon the curly head
of the little boy, and a tremulous, uncertain cheer answered her from
below.

"I have told them of the king's death, Alan," she said a moment later,
"and that here is their little king standing before them; And now, of
you--what shall I say?"

"Tell them that until the king is older, I--the man from earth--shall rule
them as regent. Tell them if they obey me all will be well, for I shall
rule them wisely."

I stood while Miela translated this amid dead silence from the crowd. As
she finished I raised myself to full height and stared down at them
threateningly.

"But if there is trouble--if any one defies my authority--then, Miela,
tell them I shall use the light-ray, for I shall brook no interference."

The silence from below continued.

I spread my hands out before me and smiled.

"But there will be no trouble. I am with the Light Country, heart and
soul. Its interests are my interests, for I have married one of its women,
and now I too am one of its people.

"Tao shall be overthrown--tell them that, Miela. The Twilight People never
again shall threaten our cities. If more land is wanted by our people of
the Light Country, tell them they shall have it. All the land they desire
shall be theirs. For when Tao is vanquished I shall build great cars such
as he is building, and all who wish may go to my earth peacefully, and we
will make them welcome as I have been made welcome here."

A cheer arose as Miela translated this; and now for the first time I heard
no cries of dissent.

"Say to them again I shall rule them wisely. Say I shall look to them--all
of them, rich and poor alike--for help in what we have to do. All must
help me, for I am only one, and I need them all. When this work we have to
do is over, when our nation is freed forever from this menace from across
the sea, tell them that then I will give my every thought to the details
of their welfare. All that they wish--if it lays in my power--shall be
done."

A girl alighted for an instant on the parapet near me; another, darted
downward in her flight, evidently to avoid the disrespect of passing
directly in front of me. The thought flashed through my mind that I might
mention the virgins and promise them reversal of the law they so abhorred,
but I felt it would be impolitic to raise that question at such a time as
this.

"Tell them now to leave the grounds, quietly," I concluded. "When I wish
them again they will be sent for. All that I do will be known through
public proclamation."

I lifted the little prince in my arms, and then, with the cheers of the
people ringing in my ears, jumped backward with him to the roof below.

Thus, by swift moving circumstances which could not have been foreseen,
was I made ruler of the Light Country. The crowd dispersed quietly. We
sent the queen and her waiting maids back to her apartments, the aged
councilors to theirs, and soon Miela and I were alone in one of the castle
rooms.

Now that the nervous excitement under which I had been laboring was over,
I felt utterly exhausted. I dropped wearily into a seat, and Miela sat on
the floor at my feet with her arms on my knees.

I stroked her glossy black hair idly.

"I'm tired, girl. I'm all in. Aren't you?"

We had not slept since the afternoon before, and so much had happened
since.

Suddenly I remembered Lua.

"Miela--your mother. We must find her." I started to my feet, then sat
down again.

There was no use of my rushing away on some aimless search over a city
like this.

"Where is the head of the city's police, Miela?"

"I have sent for him. He should be here now to see you."

"I must have him search the city. Lua must be found. The castle guards--we
must appoint others, Miela. I must have a council, too--not doddering old
men, but others that we shall select. Who collects the taxes? Where is the
money? Who handles it?"

The questions piled upon me faster than I could voice them, and all the
while my tired brain and weary, aching body called only for rest--for
sleep.

I thought of Mercer and Anina. They should be back by now.

"We must send home and have them told we are here, Miela. And that slave
woman of Baar's--she will be there, too. She must be sent here to us
also."

We had decided to live in the castle.

"When Mercer and Anina return, we must arrange to go to the Water City.
The disturbance there must be quelled. All the cities must be told of our
actions here. I must visit them all, Miela."

My voice seemed trailing off as though I were talking to myself. A
thousand problems rushed in confusion through my mind. I felt I was
talking almost incoherently. A knock on the door of our room brought me to
myself.

A young girl stood respectfully on the threshold. Miela listened to what
she had to say, questioned her swiftly, and then turned to me. Her face
had gone suddenly white.

"The girls have returned from over the sea, Alan. This is one of them. But
Anina and our friend Ollie have stayed there."

"Stayed there?" I cried. "Why?"

"They set free Tao's men as we planned. They were on their way back when
the earth-man suddenly bid Anina return. Something was wrong, he said.
This girl does not understand what. But they went back. And Anina and
Ollie they left there, standing on the shore together. We are to go over
to the same place to-night, if we can, and get them. That is all the girl
knows."

The girl withdrew after a moment.

Mercer and Anina left in the Twilight Country! Miela and I stared at each
other blankly.



CHAPTER XX.


IN THE TWILIGHT COUNTRY.


Mercer sat on the rear end of the platform and waved good-by vigorously as
he was carried swiftly up and out over the water. Under him was a pile of
blankets and a coat, and beside him a box of baked dough-like bread--the
food he was to turn over to Tao's emissaries when he set them free.

Anina flew at his side, at intervals smiling up at him reassuringly.
Before him on the platform his captives huddled. Although all of them were
trussed up securely, he menacingly kept his little wooden revolver pointed
at them from the level of his knee.

He chuckled as he thought of the fight at the bayou. Everything was
working out all right; it was surprising what one could do with his
physical strength here on Mercury.

The girls had carried the platform up some five hundred feet above the
sea. Mercer turned and looked back. The shore had already dropped almost
to the rim of the close-encircling horizon. He leaned over toward Anina,
resting one hand on the bamboo handle she was holding. "How long will it
take us to get there, Anina?"

He knew the girl would understand his words, but he did not realize she
had little basis for comparing time in his language.

"Long time," she answered, smiling. "But we go quickly now."

He sat back again and waited. It seemed like hours--it _was_ hours
probably, three or four--and still they swept onward straight as an arrow.

After another interminable interval Anina raised one hand and pointed
ahead.

"Twilight Country--there," she said.

Mercer saw, coming up over the horizon, the dim outlines of a rocky land
sparsely covered with trees. It spread out rapidly before him as he
watched, fascinated. It seemed a desolate land, a line of low, barren
hills off to one side, and a forest of stunted, naked-looking trees in
front. The platform swept on over the shore line, a rocky beach on which
the calm sea rolled up in tiny white lines of breakers. Then in a great
curve the girls circled to one side.

"Where are we going?" Mercer asked.

"A trail--near us somewhere. A trail to the Lone City. There we land."

Mercer saw the trail in a moment. It came out of the woods and struck the
shore by a little bight where boats could land. The girls swooped
downward, and in a moment more the platform was lying motionless on the
beach.

Mercer looked around. It was light enough to see objects in the immediate
foreground--a gray twilight. The forest came almost to the water's edge.
He saw now the trees might have been firs, but with small, twisted trunks,
few branches except near the top, and very few leaves. They seemed somehow
very naked and starved--indeed, it surprised him that they could grow at
all in such a rocky waste. The end of the trail was close before him. It
appeared merely an opening in the trees with the fallen logs and
underbrush cleared away.

The girls were obviously cold, standing idle now after their long flight.
Mercer lost no time in preparing for the return journey. He tumbled his
captives unceremoniously off the platform and set the box of food and
blankets beside them.

"What's this, Anina?"

He was holding in his palm a tiny metal cylinder.

Anina took it from him.

"For fire, see?"

She picked up a bit of driftwood, and, holding the end of the cylinder
against it, pressed a little button. A curl of smoke rose from the wood,
and in a moment a wisp of flame.

"A light-ray!" Mercer exclaimed.

"The ray--but different."

She tossed the blazing bit of wood aside, and held her hand a foot or so
in front of the cylinder.

"No danger! See?" She brought her hand closer. "Heat here--close--no heat
far away."

Mercer understood then that this was not a light-ray projector, but a
method of producing heat with the property of radiation, but not of
projection--a different and harmless form of the ray.

He took the little cylinder from the girl, inspected it curiously, then
laid it on the blankets.

"They'll need it, I guess, if it's any colder where they're going."

He set one of the captives free.

"Anina, tell him to sit quiet until we've gone. Then he can cut the others
loose." He tossed a knife into the box. "Come on, Anina; let's get away."

They were about ready to start back, when Mercer suddenly decided he was
hungry. He hopped off the platform. "They don't need all that food."

He gathered some of the little flat cakes of dough in his hands. "Want
some?" He offered them to the girls, who smilingly refused.

"All right. I do. I'm hungry. Might as well take a blanket, too. It's
devilish cold."

He was back on the platform in a moment, sitting down with the blanket
about his knees and munching contentedly at the bread.

"All right, Anina. Start her off."

They swung up into the air and began the return flight.

A few hours more and they would be back at the Great City. Then the real
work would begin. Mercer squared his shoulders unconsciously as he thought
of all there was to do.

But there was no danger to the Light Country from Tao, he thought with
satisfaction. At least, there would be none when the other cities were rid
of Tao's men, as the Great City was now. The men would find their way back
all right--

At the sudden thought that came to him Mercer dropped his bit of bread and
sat up in astonishment. Tao no longer a menace? He remembered my reasoning
in the boat coming down the bayou. Of course, Tao would have no reason to
attack the Light Country by force of arms until he was sure his propaganda
among the people had failed.

My argument was sound enough, but the utter stupidity of what we had done
now dawned on Mercer with overwhelming force. Tao would await the results
of his emissaries' work, of course. And here we had gone and sent them
straight back to their leader to report their efforts a failure! If
anything were needed to precipitate an invasion from Tao, this very thing
Mercer had just finished doing was it. He cursed himself and me fervently
as he thought what fools we had been.

Then it occurred to him perhaps it was not too late to repair the damage.
Not more than half an hour had passed since he had set the men free on the
shore of the Twilight Country. He must go back at once. Under no
circumstances must they be allowed to reach Tao and tell him what had
occurred.

Anina was flying near Mercer as before. He leaned over the edge of the
platform to talk with her, but the wind of their forward flight and the
noise of the girls' wings made conversation difficult.

"Anina! Come up here with me. Sit here. I want to talk to you. It's
important. They don't need you flying now."

Obediently the girl sat where he indicated, close beside him. And then as
he was about to begin telling her what was in his mind Mercer suddenly
remembered that they were still heading toward the Light Country, every
moment getting farther away from Tao's men, whose homeward journey he must
head off some way.

"We must go back, Anina--back where we came from--at once. Tell them--now!
Then I'll tell you why."

The girl's eyes widened, but she did as he directed, and the platform,
making a broad, sweeping turn, headed back toward the Twilight Country
shore.

"Anina, how far is it to Tao's city from where we landed?"

"The Lone City? A day, going fast."

"But they won't go fast, will they? Some of them are pretty badly hurt."

"Two days for them," the girl agreed.

Mercer then told her what an error we had made. She listened quietly, but
he knew she understood, not only his words, but the whole situation as he
viewed it then.

"Most bad," she said solemnly when he paused.

"That's what I want to tell you; it's bad," he declared. "We've got to
head them off some way; stop them somehow. I don't see how we're going to
capture them again--ten of them against me. But we've got to do
something."

Then he asked her about the lay of the country between the shore of the
sea and the Lone City.

Anina's English was put to severe test by her explanation; but she knew
far many more words than she had ever used, and now, with the interest of
what she had to say, she lost much of the diffidence which before had
restrained her.

She told him that the trail led back through the forest for some distance,
and then ran parallel with a swift flowing river. This river, she
explained, emptied into the Narrow Sea a few miles below the end of the
trail. It was the direct water route to the Lone City.

The trail, striking the river bank, followed it up into a mountainous
country--a metallic waste where few trees grew. There was a place still
farther up in a very wild, broken country, where the river ran through a
deep, narrow gorge, and the trail followed a narrow ledge part way up one
of its precipitous sides.

Anina's eyes sparkled with eagerness as she told of it.

"There, my friend Ollie, we stop them. Many loose stones there are, and
the path is very narrow."

Mercer saw her plan at once. They could bar the men's passage somewhere
along this rocky trail, and with stones drive them back. He realized with
satisfaction that he could throw a stone fully twice as large and twice as
far as any of the men, and thus, out of range, bombard them until they
would be glad enough to turn back.

His plan, then, was to land, and with Anina follow the men. The rest of
the girls he would send back to me with the platform, to tell Miela and me
to come over the next evening to the end of the trail.

He and Anina meanwhile would keep close behind the men, and then when the
caÃ±on was neared, get around in front of them, and bar their farther
advance. This would be easy since he could walk and run much faster than
they, and Anina could fly. He would drive them back out of the gorge, send
Anina to keep the appointment with me and bring me up to him with the
girls and the platform.

They reached the shore and landed within a few feet of where they had been
an hour before. The men were not in sight; nothing remained to show they
had been there, save pieces of cut cord lying about.

Anina now instructed the girls what to tell me, and in a moment more, with
the blanket and a few pieces of bread, she and Mercer were left standing
alone on the rocky beach. Anina was cold. He took off his fur jacket and
wrapped it about her shoulders.

She made a quaint little picture standing there, with her two long braids
of golden hair, and her blue-feathered wings which the jacket only partly
covered. They started up the trail together. It was almost dark in the
woods, but soon their eyes grew accustomed to the dim light, and they
could see a little better. They walked as rapidly, as Anina was able, for
the men had nearly an hour's start, and Mercer concluded they would be far
ahead.

They had gone perhaps a mile, climbing along over fallen logs, walking
sometimes on the larger tree trunks lying prone--rude bridges by which the
trail crossed some ravine--when Anina said: "I fly now. You wait here,
Ollie, and I find where they are."

She handed him the coat and flew up over the treetops, disappearing almost
immediately in the darkness. Mercer slung the coat around him and sat down
to wait. He sat there perhaps fifteen or twenty minutes, staring up at the
silent, motionless treetops, and thinking all sorts of vague, impossible
dangers impending. Then he heard her wings flapping and saw her flitting
down through the trees.

"Very near, they are," she said as soon as she reached the ground. "A
fire--they have--and they are ready now to sleep."

They went on slowly along the trail, and soon saw the glimmer of a fire
ahead. "A camp for the night," whispered Mercer.

"It must be nearly morning now."

He looked about him and smiled as he realized that no light would come
with the morning. Always this same dim twilight here--and eternal darkness
on ahead. "Good Lord, what a place to live!" he muttered.

They crept on cautiously until they were within sight of the camp. A large
fire was burning briskly. Most of the men were wrapped in their blankets,
apparently asleep; three were sitting upright, on guard. Mercer and Anina
crept away.

"We'd better camp, too," Mercer said when they were well out of hearing.
"They will probably stay there four or five hours, anyway. Lord, I'm
tired." He laid his hand on her shoulder gently, almost timidly. "Aren't
you tired, too, little girl?"

"Yes," she answered simply, and met his eyes with her gentle little smile.
"Oh, yes--I tired. Very much."

They did not dare light a fire, nor had they any means of doing so. They
went back from the trail a short distance, finding a little recess between
two fallen logs, where the ground was soft with a heavy moss. Here they
decided to sleep for a few hours.

A small pool of water had collected on a barren surface of rock near by,
and from this they drank. Then they sat down, together and ate about half
the few remaining pieces of bread which Mercer was carrying in the pockets
of his jacket. They were both tired out. Anina particularly was very
sleepy.

When they had finished eating Anina lay down, and Mercer covered her with
the blanket. She smiled up at him.

"Good night, Anina."

"Good night, my friend Ollie."

She closed her eyes, snuggling closer under the blanket with a contented
little sigh. Mercer put on his jacket and sat down beside her, his chin
cupped in his hand. It seemed colder now. His trousers were thin, his legs
felt numb and stiff from his recent exertion.

He sat quiet, staring at the sleeping girl. She was very beautiful and
very sweet, lying there with her golden hair framing her face, her little
head pillowed on her arms, a portion of one blue-feathered wing peeping
out from under the blanket. All at once Mercer bent over and kissed her
lightly, brushing her lips with his, as one kisses a sleeping child.

She stirred, then opened her eyes and smiled up at him again.

"You cold, Ollie," she said accusingly. She lifted an edge of the blanket.
"Here--you sleep, too."

He stretched himself beside her, and she flung a corner of the blanket
over him; and thus, like two children lost in the woods and huddled
together for warmth under a fallen log, they slept.



CHAPTER XXI.


ANOTHER LIGHT-RAY!


The news that Mercer and Anina had been left in the Twilight Country
completely dumfounded Miela and me. "Something was wrong," Mercer had
said. And then they had insisted on staying there, and had sent the girls
back to tell me to come over.

We could make nothing of it, nor did the half hour of argument into which
we immediately plunged further enlighten us. That flaw in our plans which
had dawned on Mercer so suddenly and clearly certainly never occurred to
us, for all it was seemingly so obvious.

We were interrupted--having reached no conclusion whatever except that we
would go over that evening as Mercer had directed--by the arrival of the
police chief to see me. He was a little man, curiously thin and wizened
for a Mercutian, with wide pantaloons, a shirt, short jacket and little
triangular cocked hat. His face seemed pointed, like a ferret. His
movements were rapid, his roving glance peculiarly alert.

He bowed before me obsequiously. He would obey me to the letter, I could
see that at once from his manner; though, had I impressed him as being
like my predecessor, I did not doubt but that he would do as he pleased
upon occasion.

I toyed with the little light-ray cylinder in my hand quite casually
through the brief interview, and I saw he was thoroughly impressed, for he
seemed unable to take his eyes from it.

"Where are your men just now?" I asked.

He raised his hands deprecatingly and poured out a flood of words to Miela
when my question was translated to him.

"He himself was sleeping," she said to me when he had paused for breath.
"His third watch was on patrol about the city. Then from the castle came
the king's guards, fleeing in haste. Those of the police they met they
told that evil men were in the castle with the light-ray, and all who
represented the city's authority would be killed."

"That was a lie," I interrupted. "There was no light-ray here then."

Miela nodded. "It was what Baar's men had told them to say, I think."

"And then what happened to the police?"

"Then they left their posts about the city. Some fled; others went back
and reported what they had heard."

"And it never occurred to any of them to come up here and try to stop the
disturbance? Curious policemen, these!"

"It is too deadly--the light-ray," said Miela. "They were afraid. And then
the alarm bell began ringing. They sent for Ano, here, to ask him what
they should do. And then you sent for him. He has his men at the police
building, in waiting. And he comes to you at the risk of his life, and now
asks your commands."

Thus did my chief of police explain satisfactorily to himself, and with
great protestations of loyalty to his trust, how it came about that he and
his men did nothing while their king was being murdered and another put in
his place.

Recriminations seemed useless. He stood bowing and scraping before me,
eager only to obey my slightest wish.

"Tell him, Miela, how Baar's men captured Lua. Have the city, thoroughly
searched--Baar's house particularly. Tell him _I_ killed Baar's wife. Have
that slave woman sent home to me.

"Tell him to capture Baar and any of his known associates. If he does,
have him report to me at once. Say to him that I must have word of Lua--or
I'll have a new chief of police by to-morrow. For the rest, have his men
patrol the city as usual."

I spoke as sternly as I could, and the little man received my words with
voluble protestations of extreme activity on his part.

When he had bowed himself out I smiled at Miela hopelessly.

"This has got to be a mighty different government before we can ever hope
to accomplish anything against Tao." Tao was not worrying me for the
moment. Lua must be found, and I had no idea of relying entirely upon this
little chief of police to find her. And Mercer needed me, too, this very
evening.

I stood up wearily and put my arm about Miela's shoulders. Her little body
drooped against mine, her head resting on my shoulder. There was little
about us then, as we stood there dispirited and physically tired out, that
would have commended respect from our subjects.

"We _must_ get some sleep, Miela," I said. "Things will look very
different to us then."

It must have been mid-afternoon when we awoke. Ano was at hand to report
that Baar and his men, and all the king's guards, must have fled the city.
Of Lua he had, so far, found no trace. Baar's slave woman was in the
castle, waiting our commands. The girl who had brought us Mercer's message
was also waiting to ask us when we wanted her and the other girls for the
trip back to the Twilight Country.

"Right away," I exclaimed. "I'm not going to take any chances with Mercer.
We'll start at once."

The girl flew away to get her friends and the platform, which had been
left in the garden of Miela's home. I planned to start openly from the
castle roof; there was now no need of maintaining secrecy.

The disappearance of Lua was alarming. Equally so was the possible danger
into which Mercer might have blundered. In Lua's case there did not seem
much I could do personally at that moment. Before starting I arranged with
the aged councilors to call a meeting the following morning of all
government officials.

"Could we get Fuero to come, Miela?"

She shook her head positively. "His oath would forbid it."

"Well, tell the councilors to call also any of the city's prominent men.
I've got to get some good men with me. I can't do it all alone."

Miela smiled at me quizzically as I said this: "You have forgotten our
women and their help, my husband?"

I had, in very truth, for the moment.

"We'll need them, too," I said. "Tell these girls who carry us to-night to
call all those who went with us to the mountains--a meeting to-morrow at
this time--here on the castle roof."

"To the Water City we must go," Miela said. "There Tao's men are very
strong, our girls report. And to-day there was a fight among the people,
and several were killed."

"But we must go armed, Miela, with more than one light-ray. I shall see
this Fuero to-morrow. After all, he's the key-note to the whole thing."

We started from the castle roof, Miela sitting with me this time on the
platform. Flying low, we passed over the maze of bayous, and in what
seemed an incredibly short time we were out over the sea. I had now no
idea what we might be called upon to do, or how long we would be gone, for
all my specific plans for the next day; so we started as well prepared as
possible.

The precious light-ray cylinder I held in my hand. We had a number of
blankets, enough food for us all for two days of careful rationing, a
knife or two, and a heavy, sharp-edged metal implement like an ax.

It seemed hardly more than half an hour before a great black cloud had
spread over the whole sky, and we ran into the worst storm I have ever
encountered. The wind came up suddenly, and we fought our way directly
into it. Lightning flashed about us, and then came the rain, slanting down
in great sheets.

We were still flying low. The mirror surface of the sea was now lashed
with waves, extraordinarily high, whose white tops blew away in long
streaks of scud. The girls fought sturdily against the wind and rain,
carrying us steadily up until after a while I could not see the water
below.

We were in the storm perhaps an hour altogether. Then we passed up and
beyond it; and emerged again into that gray vacancy, with a waste of
storm-lashed water far beneath us.

The Twilight Country shore was still below the horizon, and it was a
considerable time before we sighted it. Miela and I sat quiet, wrapped in
a blanket, which, wet as it was, offered some protection against the
biting wind. The girls seemed exhausted from their long struggle against
the storm, and I was glad for them when we finally landed.

This was the place, they said, where Mercer and Anina had set Tao's men
free, and where the two were standing when the girls had left with the
platform. I looked about, and saw on the beach the pieces of cut cord with
which the men had been bound.

Of Mercer and Anina there was no sign. We waited until well after the time
of the evening meal, and still Mercer and Anina did not arrive. We
concluded, of course, that they had followed Tao's men up the trail for
some reason, and we expected it would be Anina who would come back to tell
us where Mercer was.

"Let us go up a little distance," Miela suggested finally. "They cannot
tell what the hour is. They may be near here now, coming back."

The girls were rested and warmed now, and we started off again with the
platform. We flew low over the treetops, following the trail as best we
could, but in the semi-darkness we could see very little from above. After
a time we gave it up and returned to the shore.

Again we waited, now very much alarmed. And then finally we decided to
return to the Great City for the night. Anina might have missed us some
way, we thought, and flown directly home. She might be there waiting for
us when we arrived. If not, we would return again with several hundred
girls, and with them scour the country carefully back as near the Lone
City as we dared go.

With our hearts heavy with apprehension we started back across the
channel. Lua, Mercer and Anina were separated from us. All had been
captured, perhaps, by our enemies! Things were, indeed, in a very bad way.

Without unusual incident we sighted the Light Country shore. Three girls
were winging their way swiftly toward us.

"They wish to speak with us, Alan," said Miela. "From the Great City they
seem to come. Perhaps it is Anina."

Our hopes were soon dispelled, for Anina was not one of them; they were
three of the girls we had directed to patrol the seacoast.

When they neared us Miela flew off the platform and joined them. They
circled about for a time, flying close together, then Miela left them and
returned to me, while they hovered overhead. Her face was clouded with
anxiety as she alighted beside me.

"They were near the Water City a short time ago. And they say the
light-ray is being used there. They saw it flashing up, and dared not go
closer."

The light-ray in the Water City! My heart sunk with dismay. The cylinder I
held in my hand I had thought the only one in use in all the Light
Country. With it I felt supreme. And now they had it also in the Water
City!

One of the girls flung up her hand suddenly and called to Miela.

"See, Alan--a boat!"

I looked down to where Miela pointed. The sea was still rough from the
storm, but no longer lashed into fury. Coming toward us, close inshore and
from the direction of the Water City, I saw a boat speeding along over the
spent waves. And as I looked, a narrow beam of light, green, shading into
red, shot up from the boat and hung wavering in the air like a little
search-light striving to pierce the gray mist of the sky!



CHAPTER XXII.


THE THEFT OF THE LIGHT-RAY.


The touch of soft, cool hands on his face brought Mercer back to sudden
consciousness. He opened his eyes; Anina was sitting beside him, regarding
him gravely.

"Wake up, my friend Ollie. Time now to wake up."

He sat up, rubbing his eyes. The same dim twilight obscured everything
around. For an instant he was confused.

"Why, I've been asleep." He got to his feet. "Do you think it's been long,
Anina? Maybe the men have started off. Let's go see."

Anina had already been to see; she had awakened some little time before
and, leaving Mercer asleep, had flown up ahead over the treetops.

The men were just then breaking camp, and she had returned to wake up
Mercer. They ate their last remaining pieces of bread, drank from the
little pool of water, and were soon ready to start on after their quarry.

"How long will it take them to reach the gorge, Anina?"

"Not very long--four times farther reach Lone City."

By which Mercer inferred that within three or four hours, perhaps, they
would be at the place where they hoped to turn the men back.

They started off slowly up the trail, Mercer carrying the folded blanket,
and Anina wearing the fur jacket. They soon came upon the smoldering fire
that marked the other party's night encampment. The men were, Mercer
judged, perhaps a mile or so ahead of them.

They continued on, walking slowly, for they did not want to overtake the
slow-traveling men ahead. The look of the country, what they could see of
it in the darkness, was unchanged. The trail seemed bending steadily to
the right, and after a time they came to the bank of a river which the
trail followed. It was a broad stream, perhaps a quarter of a mile across,
with a considerable current sweeping down to the sea.

They kept to the trail along the river bank for nearly another hour. Then
Anina abruptly halted, pulling Mercer partly behind a tree trunk.

"Another fire," she whispered. "They stop again."

They could see the glow of the fire, close by the river bank among the
trees. Very cautiously they approached and soon made out the vague
outlines of a boat moored to the bank. It seemed similar to the one in
which they had come down the bayous from the Great City, only slightly
larger.

"Other men," whispered Anina. "From Lone City."

Mercer's heart sank. A party from the Lone City--more of Tao's men to join
those he had set free! All his fine plans were swept away. The men would
all go up to the Lone City now in the boat, of course. There was nothing
he could do to stop them. And now Tao would learn of the failure of his
plans.

Mercer's first idea was to give up and return to the shore of the sea; but
Anina kept on going cautiously forward, and he followed her.

The fire, they could see as they got closer, was built a little back from
the water, with a slight rise of ground between it and the boat. There
were some thirty men gathered around; they seemed to be cooking.

"You stand here, Ollie," Anina whispered. "I go hear what they say. Stand
very quiet and wait. I come back."

Mercer sat down with his back against a tree and waited. Anina disappeared
almost immediately. He heard no sound of her flight, but a moment later he
thought he saw her dropping down through the trees just outside the circle
of light from the fire. From where he was sitting he could see the boat
also; he thought he made out the figure of a man sitting in it, on guard.
The situation, as Mercer understood it from what Anina told him when she
returned, seemed immeasurably worse even than he had anticipated.

Tao had been making the Water City the basis of his insidious propaganda,
rather than the Great City, as we had supposed. He had been in constant
communication by boat with his men in the Water City; and now affairs
there were ripe for more drastic operations.

This boat Mercer had come upon was intended to be Tao's first armed
invasion of the Light Country--some twenty of his most trusted men armed
with the light-ray. Joining his emissaries in the Water City, and with the
large following among the people there which they had already secured,
they planned to seize the government and obtain control of the city. Then,
using it as a base, they could spread out for a conquest of the entire
nation. Mercer listened with whitening face while Anina told him all this
as best she could.

"But--but why does he want to attack the Light Country, Anina? I thought
he wanted to go and conquer our earth."

"Very big task--your earth," the girl answered. "Light Country more easy.
Many light-rays in the Great City. Those he needs before he goes to your
earth. More simple to get those than make others."

Mercer understood it then. The large quantity of light-ray ammunition
stored in the Great City was what Tao was after. This was his way of
getting it, and once he had it, and control of the Light Country besides
he would be in a much better position to attack the earth.

The idea came to Mercer then to steal the boat and escape with it. If he
could do that, the enemies would have to return to the Lone City on foot,
and the threatened invasion of the Light Country would thus be postponed
for a time at least. Meanwhile, with the boat he could hasten back to me
with news of the coming invasion.

These thoughts were running through his head while Anina was talking. It
was a daring plan, but it might be done. There was apparently only one man
in the boat, and the slight rise of ground between it and the fire made
him out of sight, though not out of hearing, of the others.

"Can you run the boat, Anina?"

The girl nodded eagerly. Mercer drew a long breath.

"We'll take a chance. It's the only way. They've got that cursed
light-ray." He shivered as he thought of the danger they were about to
invite.

Then he explained to Anina what they were to do. She listened carefully,
with the same expectant, eager look on her face he had seen there so often
before.

They left the blanket and fur jacket on the ground, and, making a wide
detour around the fire, came back to the river bank several hundred yards
above the boat. They stood at the water's edge, looking about them. The
boat was just around a slight bend in the stream; the glimmer of the fire
showed plainly among the trees. Intense quiet prevailed; only the murmur
of the water flowing past, and occasionally the raised voice of one of the
men about the fire, broke the stillness.

Mercer stared searchingly into the girl's eyes as she stood there quietly
at his side. She met his gaze steadily.

"You're a wonderful little girl," he whispered to her, and then abruptly
added: "Come on. Don't make any splash if you can help it. And remember,
if anything goes wrong, never mind me. Fly away--if you can."

They waded slowly into the water. The current carried them rapidly along.
Side by side, with slow, careful strokes, they swam, keeping close to
shore. The river was shallow--hardly over their heads. The water was cold
and, Mercer thought, curiously buoyant.

It seemed hardly more than a moment before the shadowy black figure of
outlines of the boat loomed ahead. They could make out the figure of its
single occupant, sitting with his arm on the gunwale. They swam hardly at
all now, letting the current carry them forward. As silent as two drifting
logs they dropped down upon the boat and in another moment were clinging
to a bit of rope that chanced to be hanging over its stern.

The bow of the boat was nosed against the bank; it lay diagonally
downstream, with its stern some twenty feet from shore. Its occupant was
sitting amidships, facing the bow. Mercer drew himself up until his eyes
were above the stern of the boat and saw him plainly. He was slouching
down as though dozing. His elbow was crooked, carelessly over the gunwale.

Mercer's heart gave an exultant leap as he saw a little cylinder in the
man's hand. There was a little projection on the boat at the water line,
and, working along this with his hands, Mercer edged slowly toward the
man. He knew he could not be heard, for the murmur of the water slipping
past the sides of the boat drowned the slight noise he made.

He edged his way along, with not much more than his face out of water,
until he was directly beneath the motionless form in the boat.

Mercer's heart was beating so it seemed to smother him. Slowly he pulled
himself up until the fingers of his left hand gripped the gunwale hardly
more than a foot or two behind the man's back. His other hand reached
forward. He must have made a slight noise, for the man sat suddenly
upright, listening.

Mercer's right hand shot out. His fingers closed over the little cylinder
and the hand holding it. He bent it inward, twisting the man's wrist. His
thumb fumbled for the little button Anina had described. There was a tiny
puff of light; the man's body wavered, then fell forward inert. Mercer
climbed into the boat. He looked back. Anina was pulling herself up over
the stern. A long pole lay across the seats. He picked it up and started
with it toward the bow. And then he tripped over something and fell
headlong, dropping the pole with a clatter.

As he picked himself up there came a shout from the men in the woods.
Mercer hurried forward and cast off the rope that held the boat to the
bank. It had been tied more or less permanently at this end. As he fumbled
at the knots he heard Anina's soft, anxious voice calling: "Hurry, Ollie,
hurry!"

The shouts from the woods continued. The knots loosened finally. The boat
slid back away from the bank; with the pole Mercer shoved the bow around.
An instant later Anina had started the mechanism, and in a broad curve
they swung silently out into the river.

Up from the woods shot a beam of the greenish-red light. It darted to and
fro for an instant, almost vertically in the air, and Mercer heard the
crackle of the tree-tops as they burst into flame under its heat. Then it
swung downward, but before it could reach the water level the rise of
ground at the bank cut it off.

Without realizing it, Mercer had been holding his breath as he watched.
Now he let it out with a long sigh of relief.

"We did it, Anina--we did it," he said exultantly. "And we've got a
light-ray, too."

A moment later they swept around a bend in the river, out of sight and out
of hearing of their enemies.



CHAPTER XXIII.


THE STORM.


On the little stern seat of the boat Mercer and Anina sat side by side,
the girl steering by a small tiller that lay between them. They were well
out in the middle of the river now, speeding silently along with its swift
current. They made extraordinary speed. Both banks of the river were
visible in the twilight--dim, wooded hills stretching back into darkness.

The stream widened steadily as they advanced, until near, its mouth it had
become a broad estuary. They followed its right shore now and soon were
out in the Narrow Sea.

"We'd better go right on across," said Mercer. "It's too early for Alan to
be at the end of the trail. He won't be there till to-night. We can reach
the Great City before he starts."

They decided to do that, and headed straight out into the sea. They had
been cold, sitting there in the wind, and wet to the skin. But the boat
contained several furry jackets, which the men had left in it, and in the
bottom, near the stern, a cubical metal box which lighted up like an
electric radiator. By this they had dried and warmed themselves, and now,
each with a fur jacket on, they felt thoroughly comfortable.

Mercer was elated at what they had accomplished. He could see now how
fortunate a circumstance it was that we had set the men free. He would not
have stumbled upon this other party, and the invasion of the Light Country
would have begun, had we not released them.

He talked enthusiastically about what we were to do next, and Anina
listened, saying very little, but following his words with eager
attention. Once he thought she was more interested in the words themselves
than in what he was saying, and said so.

"Your language--so very easy it is. I want to learn it soon if I can."

"Why, you know it already," he protested. "And how the deuce you ever got
it so quickly beats me."

She smiled.

"When you say words--very easy then for me to remember. Not many words in
spoken language."

He shook his head.

"Well, however you do it, the result's all right. I'm mighty glad, too.
Why, when I get you back home on earth--" He stopped in sudden confusion.

She put her hand on his arm.

"Miela says your earth is very wonderful. Tell me about it."

She listened to his glowing words. "And opera--what is that?" she asked
once when he paused.

He described the Metropolitan Opera House, and the newer, finer one in
Boston. She listened to his description of the music with flushed face and
shining eyes.

"How beautiful--that music! Can _you_ sing, Ollie?"

"No," he admitted, "but I can play a little on a guitar. I wish I had one
here."

"I can sing," said the girl: "Miela says I can sing very well."

He leaned toward her, brushing the blue feathers of her wing lightly with
his hand.

"Sing for me," he said softly. "I'll bet you sing beautifully."

It may have been their situation, or what they had been through together,
or the girl's nearness to him now with her long braids of golden hair, the
graceful sweep of her blue-feathered wings that matched the blue of her
eyes, her red lips parted in song--but whatever it was, Mercer thought he
had never heard so sweet a voice. She sang a weird little song. It was in
a minor key, with curious cadences that died away and ended nowhere--the
folk song of a different race, a different planet, yet vibrant with the
ever unsatisfied longing of the human soul.

She sang softly, staring straight before her, without thought of her
singing, thinking only of her song. She ended with a tender phrase that
might have been a sigh--a quivering little half sob that died away in her
throat and left the song unfinished. Her hands were folded quiet in her
lap; her eyes gazed out on the gray waste of water about the boat.

Mercer breathed again.

"That is beautiful, Anina. What is it?"

She turned to him and smiled.

"Just love song. You like it, my friend Ollie?"

"It's wonderful. But it's--it's so sad--and--and sort of weird isn't it?"

"That is love, my mother says. Love is sad."

Mercer's heart was beating fast.

"Is it always sad, Anina? I don't think so--do you?"

There was no trace of coquetry in her eyes; she sighed tremulously.

"I do not know about love. But what I feel here"--she put her hand on her
breast--"I do not understand, Ollie. And when I sing--they are very sad
and sweet, the thoughts of music, and they say things to the heart that
the brain does not understand. Is it that way with you?"

Unnoticed by the two, a storm cloud had swept up over the horizon behind
them, and the sky overhead was blotted now with its black. They had not
seen it nor heeded the distant flashing of lightning. A sudden thunderclap
startled them now into consciousness of the scene about them. The wind
rushed on them from behind. The sea was rising rapidly; the boat scudded
before it.

"A storm! Look at it, Anina, behind us!"

There was nothing in sight now but the gray sea, broken into waves that
were beginning to curl, white and angry. Behind them the darkness was
split with jagged forks of lightning. The thunder rolled heavily and
ominously in the distance, with occasional sharp cracks near at hand.

"Look, Anina--there comes the rain! See it there behind us! I hope it
won't be a bad storm. I wouldn't want to be out in this little tub."

The wind veered to the left, increasing steadily. The sea was lashed into
foam; its spray swept over the boat, drenching them thoroughly.

The waves, turning now with the wind, struck the boat on its stern
quarter. One curled aboard, sloshing an inch or two of water about the
bottom of the boat. Mercer feared it would interfere with the mechanism,
but Anina reassured him.

As the waves increased in size, Mercer swung the boat around so as to run
directly before them. The stern frequently was lifted clear of the water
now, the boat losing headway as a great cloud of hissing steam arose from
behind.

After a time the Light Country shore came into sight. They were close upon
it before they saw it through the rain and murk. They seemed to be heading
diagonally toward it.

"Where are we, Anina?" Mercer asked anxiously.

The girl shook her head.

Steadily they were swept inward. The shore line, as they drew closer, was
to Mercer quite unfamiliar. There were no bayous here, no inundated land.
Instead, a bleak line of cliffs fronted them--a perpendicular wall against
which the waves beat furiously. They could see only a short distance. The
line of cliffs extended ahead of them out of sight in the gray of the
sheets of rain.

They were slanting toward the cliffs, and Mercer knew if he did not do
something they would be driven against them in a few moments more.

"We'll have to turn out, Anina. We can't land along here. We must keep
away if we can."

With the waves striking its stern quarter again, the boat made much
heavier weather. It seemed to Mercer incredible that it should stay
afloat. He found himself thoroughly frightened now, but when he remembered
that Anina was in no danger he felt relieved. He had made her lie down in
the boat, where she would be more sheltered from the wind and rain. Now he
hastily bade her get up and sit beside him.

"We might be swamped any minute, Anina. You sit there where you won't get
caught if we go over."

They swept onward, Mercer keeping the boat offshore as best he could.

"Haven't you any idea where we are, Anina? How far along do these cliffs
extend?"

A huge, jagged pinnacle of rock, like a great cathedral spire set in the
cliff, loomed into view ahead. Anina's face brightened, when she saw it.

"The way to the Water City," she cried. "A river there is--ahead. Not so
very far now."

In spite of all Mercer could do, they were blowing steadily closer to the
wave-lashed cliffs.

He began to despair. "If anything happens, Anina--you fly up at once. You
hear? Don't you wait. You can't help me any. I'll make out some way. You
say good-by to Alan and your mother and sister for me--if--" He fell
silent a moment, then said softly: "And, Anina, if that should happen, I
want you to know that I think you're the sweetest, most wonderful little
girl I ever met. And, Anina dear--"

The girl gripped his arm with a cry of joy.

"See, Ollie! There, ahead, the cliffs end. That is the Water City river!
See it there?"

The mouth of a broad estuary, with the waves rolling up into it, came
swiftly into view. They rounded the rocky headland and entered it, running
now almost directly before the wind. The river narrowed after a short
distance to a stream very much like the one they had left in the Twilight
Country.

Mercer turned to the quiet little girl beside him.

"Well, Anina, we've certainly had some trip. I wouldn't want to go through
it again."

Mercer thought the situation over. They could stay where they were in the
river for an hour or two until the storm was entirely over, and then go
back to the Great City. On the other hand, now that they were here, Mercer
felt a great curiosity to see this other city where Tao's men had created
trouble. Why should they not use these few hours of waiting to see it?

"We might get a line on how things stand up there to tell Alan when we get
back," Mercer said when he explained his ideas to Anina. "It won't take
long." Very probably it was the light-ray cylinder in his hand which
influenced his decision, for he added: "We can't get into any trouble, you
know; there's no light-ray here yet."

And so they went on.

There was a perceptible current coming down the river. The water was cold
and clear, and in the brighter light now he could see down into it in many
places to the bottom, six or eight feet below. The region seemed utterly
uninhabited; no sign of a house or even a boat on the river met them as
they advanced.

"Mightn't there be boats along here?" Mercer asked once. "How far up _is_
this place?"

"Not far now--beyond there."

The river appeared to terminate abruptly up ahead against the side of a
frowning brown cliff, but Mercer saw a moment later that it opened out
around a bend to the left.

"Around that next bend?"

She nodded.

It seemed incredible to Mercer that the second largest city in Mercury lay
hidden in the midst of this desolation.

"We'll meet boats," he said. "What will the people think of me? Don't
let's start anything if we can help it."

"You lie there." Anina indicated the bottom of the boat at her feet. "No
one see you then. I steer. They do not notice me. Nobody care who I am."

Mercer had still the very vaguest of ideas as to what they would do when
they got to the Water City. As a matter of fact, he really was more
curious just to see it than anything else. But there was another reason
that urged him on. Both he and Anina were hungry.

They had eaten very little since leaving the Great City the night before;
and now that it was again evening, they were famished. They had rummaged
the boat thoroughly, but evidently the men had taken all their supplies
ashore with them, for nothing was in the boat.

"We'll have to dope out some way to get something to eat," said Mercer.

They came upon the sharp bend in the river Anina had indicated. Following
close against one rocky shore, they swept around the bend, and the Water
City lay spread out before Mercer's astonished eyes.



CHAPTER XXIV.


THE WATER CITY.


It had stopped raining; the sky overhead was luminous with diffused
sunlight; the scene that lay before Mercer was plainly visible. The river
had opened abruptly into a broad, shallow, nearly circular lake, some five
or six miles across. The country here showed an extraordinary change from
that they had passed through. The lake appeared to occupy a depression in
the surrounding hills, like the bottom of a huge, shallow bowl. From the
water's edge on all sides the ground sloped upward. It was no longer a
barren, rocky land, but seemingly covered with a rich heavy soil, dotted
with tropical trees. That it was under a high state of cultivation was
evident. Mercer saw tier upon tier of rice terraces on the hillsides.

But what astonished him most was the city itself. It covered almost the
entire surface of the lake--a huge collection of little palm-thatched
shacks built upon platforms raised above the water on stilts. Some of the
houses were larger and built of stone, with their foundations in the
water.

Off to one side were two or three little islands, an acre or less in
extent, fringed with palms and coconut trees. In nearly the center of the
lake stood a stone castle, two stories in height, with minarets
ornamenting its corners. An open stretch of water surrounded it.

There was little of regularity about this extraordinary city, and no
evidence of streets, for the houses were set down quite haphazard wherever
open space afforded. In some places they were more crowded together than
others, although seldom closer than twenty or thirty feet.

Around the larger ones there was a little more open water, as though the
owners controlled it and forbade building there. Some of the smaller
houses were connected by little wooden bridges. Anina said this was where
two or more families of relatives had located together.

There were a few boats moving about--little punts hollowed out of logs and
propelled by long poles--and Mercer saw many others, some of them larger
like the one he and Anina were in, tied up by the houses. It was now the
time of the evening meal. The workers had returned from the terraces;
there were few moving about the city. Occasionally a girl would dart up
from one of the houses and wing her way to another, but beyond that there
were no signs of activity.

Anina took command of the boat now, slowing it down and heading for the
nearest of the houses, which were hardly more than quarter of a mile away.
Mercer stretched himself out in the bottom of the boat, covering himself
with a large piece of fabric that lay there. He felt that he would be
unnoticed, even should a girl chance to pass directly overhead. But he
could see nothing of the city from where he was, and soon grew restless
and anxious to do something else.

"I'm coming up, Anina," he said once. "Shucks! Nobody can do anything to
us. Haven't I got this light-ray?"

But Anina was obdurate, and made him stay where he was.

They went slowly forward and were soon among the houses. On the front
platform of one a man sat fishing. A little naked boy slid down into the
water from another, swimming as though born to the water. Both stared at
Anina curiously as she passed slowly by, but they said nothing. A girl
looked out of the window of another house and waved her hand in friendly
greeting, which Anina answered.

Mercer, lying with all but his face covered by the cloth, could see only
the sides of the boat, the bottom of the cross-seat over his head, and
Anina as she sat above him in the stern.

"Where do you suppose the Tao people hang out around here?" he suddenly
asked. "If we could--"

The girl silenced him with a gesture.

He lowered his voice. "Try and find out where they are, Anina," he
whispered.

Anina steered the boat directly under several of the houses, which must
have been quite a usual proceeding, for it attracted no attention. A girl
flew close to them once, and Anina called to her. The girl alighted on the
stern of the boat for a moment; Mercer slid the cloth over his face and
held himself motionless. Then he heard Anina's voice calling to him
softly. He slid the cloth back; the girl had gone.

"She says Tao's men live, there--large house, of wood," said Anina,
pointing off to one side.

Mercer nearly rapped his head against the seat above him in his
excitement.

"You know which house? Let's go there. Maybe we can hear what they're
saying. Can we get under it?"

She nodded.

"Let's try, Anina," he said eagerly. "You steer us slow right under it,
just as if you were going past. If there's nobody in sight you can stop
underneath, can't you? Maybe we can hear what they're saying."

"I try," the girl said simply.

"I'll lay still," encouraged Mercer. "Nobody will bother about you. Just
sneak in and see what happens. If anybody sees you, keep going."

He was all excitement, and in spite of Anina's protests wriggled about
continually, trying to see where they were.

The house that the girl had pointed out lay only a few hundred yards
ahead. It was one of the largest of the wooden buildings--sixty or seventy
feet long at least--single story, with a high sloping thatched roof.

It was raised on a platform some six feet above the water, which, in
front, had a little flight of wooden steps leading down to the surface.
There was a hundred feet of open water on all sides of the building. The
boat, moving slowly, slipped through the water almost without a sound.

"Where are we now?" Mercer whispered impatiently. "Aren't we there yet?"

The girl put a finger to her lips. "Almost there. Quiet now."

She steered straight for the house. There was no one in sight, either
about the house itself or about those in its immediate vicinity. A moment
more and the boat slid beneath the building into semidarkness.

Anina shut the power off and stood up. The floor of the house was just
above her head. In front of her, near the center of the building, she saw
the side walls of an inner inclosure some twenty feet square. These walls
came down to the surface, making a room like a basement to the dwelling. A
broad doorway, with a sliding door that now stood open, gave ingress.

The boat had now almost lost headway. Anina nosed its bow into this
doorway, and grasping one of the pilings near at hand, brought it to rest.

Mercer, at a signal from her, climbed cautiously to his feet, still
holding the little light-ray cylinder in his hand.

"What's that in there?" he whispered.

Beyond the doorway, through which the bow of the boat projected, there was
complete darkness.

"Lower room," Anina whispered back. "Store things in there. And boat
landing, too."

"Let's go in and see."

Mercer started toward the bow of the boat. Six feet or more of it was
inside the doorway. He made his way carefully into the bow, and found
himself inside the basement of the house.

In the dimness of this interior he could just make out the outlines of
things around. The doorway was located at a corner of the inclosure. In
front lay a small open space of water. At one side a platform about two
feet above the surface formed the floor of the room. A tiny punt lay
moored to it. Farther back a small, steep flight of steps led up through a
rectangular opening to the building above.

Most of the light in this lower room came down through this opening; and
now, as Mercer stood quiet looking about him, he could hear plainly the
voices of men in the room above.

Anina was beside him.

"They're up there," he whispered, pointing. "Let's land and see if we can
get up those stairs a ways and hear what they're saying."

They stood a moment, undecided, and then from the silence and darkness
about them they distinctly heard a low muffled sound.

"What's that?" whispered Mercer, startled. "Didn't you hear that, Anina?
There's something over there by the bottom of the steps."

They listened, but only the murmur of the voices from above, and an
occasional footstep, broke the stillness.

"I tell you I heard something," Mercer persisted. "There's something over
there." He rattled a bit of rope incautiously, as if to startle a rat from
its hiding place. "Let's tie up, Anina."

They made the boat fast, but in such a way that they could cast it loose
quickly.

"We might want to get out of here in a hurry," Mercer whispered with a
grin. "You never can tell, Anina."

He stood stock still. The sound near at hand was repeated. It was
unmistakable this time--a low, stifled moan.

Mercer stepped lightly out of the boat onto the platform. A few boxes, a
coil of rope, and other odds and ends stood about. He felt his way forward
among them toward the bottom of the steps. He heard the moan again, and
now he saw the outlines of a human figure lying against the farther wall.

Anina was close behind him.

"There's somebody over there," he whispered. "Hurt or sick, maybe."

They crept forward.

It was a woman, bound hand and foot and gagged. Mercer bent over and tore
the cloth from her face. In another instant Anina was upon her knees,
sobbing softly, with her mother's head in her lap.

They loosed the cords that held her, and chaffed her stiffened limbs. She
soon recovered, for she was not injured. She told Anina her story
then--how Baar had captured her in her home while she was waiting for
Miela and me, and how two of his men had brought her here to the Water
City by boat at once.

That was all she knew, except that this house was the headquarters of
Tao's emissaries, who, it appeared, were now allied with Baar and his
party.

Anina whispered all this to Mercer when her mother had finished.

"Let's get out of here," said Mercer.

The responsibility of two women, especially the elder Lua, who could not
fly, weighed suddenly upon him, and his first thought was to get back to
the Great City at once.

Anina helped her mother into the boat.

"Wait," she whispered to Mercer. "I hear what they say. You wait here."

She went to the foot of the steps and began climbing them cautiously.

"Not on your life, I won't wait here," Mercer muttered to himself, and,
gripping the light-ray cylinder firmly as though he feared it might get
away from him, he joined Anina on the stairway.

Slowly, cautiously they made their way upward. The steps were fairly wide,
and they went up almost side by side. From near the top they could see a
portion of the room above.

The corner of a table showed, around which a number of men were gathered,
eating. A woman was moving about the room serving them.

Their words, from here, were plainly audible. Mercer would have gone a
step or two higher, without thought of discovery, but Anina held him back.
"Wait, Ollie. I hear now what they say."

They stood silent. The men were talking earnestly. Mercer could hear their
words, but of course understood nothing he heard.

"What do they say, Anina?" he whispered impatiently after a moment.

"Baar is here with two or three of his men. He talks with Tao's men. They
talk about men from Twilight Country. Waiting for them now. Speak of
storm. Worried--because men do not come. Waiting for light-ray."

"They'll have a long wait," Mercer chuckled. "Let's get out of here,
Anina."

He must have made a slight noise, or perhaps he and Anina, crouching there
on the stairs, were seen by some one above. He never knew quite how it
occurred, but, without warning, a man stood at the opening, looking down
at them.

There was a shout, and the room above was in instant turmoil. Mercer lost
his head. Anina pulled at him and said something, but he did not hear her.
He only knew that they had been discovered, and that most of their enemies
in the Water City were crowded together in this one room at hand. And _he_
had the light-ray--the only one in the city.

A sudden madness possessed him. He tore away from Anina and, climbing up
the steps of the stairway, leaped into the room above.

Twenty or thirty men faced him, most of them about the table. Several had
started hastily to their feet; two or three chairs were overturned.

The man who had been looking down into the opening darted back as Mercer
came up, and shouted again.

Mercer saw it was Baar.


THE WATER CITY.

The men around the table were now all on their feet. One of them picked up
a huge metal goblet and flung it at Mercer's head. The last remaining bit
of reason Mercer had left fled from him. Without thought of what he was
about, he raised the metal cylinder; his thumb found the little button and
pressed it hard; he waved the cylinder back and forth before him.

It was over in an instant. Mercer relaxed his pressure on the button and
staggered back. He was sick and faint from what he had seen--with the
realization of what he had done. Flames were rising all about him. The
room was full of smoke. He held his breath, finding his way back somehow
to the stairway, with the agonized screams of the men ringing in his
ears. He caught a glimpse of Anina's white face as she stood there where
he had left her.

"Good God. Anina! Go back! Go back! I'm coming!"

He tripped near the top of the stairs and fell in a heap onto the platform
below, but he still held the cylinder clutched tightly in his hand.

Anina groped her way down to him. He gripped her by the arm. He was
trembling like a leaf. The crackling of the burning house above came down
to him; the cries of the men were stilled.

"Come, Anina," he half whispered. "Hurry--let's get away, anywhere.
Home--out of this cursed city."

Lua was still in the boat. Her calm, steady glance brought Mercer back to
his senses. They shoved the boat out from under the house, and in a moment
more were heading back through the city. The building they had left was
now a mass of flames, with a great cloud of smoke, rolling up from it. A
woman stood on the front platform an instant, and then, screaming, flung
herself into the water.

The city was in commotion. Faces appeared at windows; girls flew up and
gathered in a frightened flock, circling about the burning building; boats
miraculously appeared from everywhere. Lua was steering their boat on its
tortuous way between the houses. She put the boat nearly to full speed,
and as they swept past a house nearly collided with a punt that was
crossing behind it.

Mercer's nerves were still shaken. He handed Anina the light-ray cylinder.

"Here--take it, Anina. I don't want the cursed thing. Shoot it up into the
air. Somebody might try and stop us. That'll scare them. Careful you don't
hit anything!"

Anina played the light about in the air for a time, but soon there were so
many girls flying about she had to shut it off. A few minutes more and
they had passed the last of the houses, swept around the bend in the
river, and left the frightened city out of sight behind them.

They had left the river and, following close along shore, headed for the
bayous that led up to the Great City. The storm had now entirely passed,
leaving the daylight unusually bright and a fresh coolness in the air. The
sea was still rough, although not alarmingly so, and the boat made
comparatively slow progress. It was two hours or more--to Mercer it seemed
a whole day--before they were nearing the bayous. Anina was sitting by his
side in the center of the boat. Lua was steering.

"You hungry, Ollie?" the girl asked, smiling.

Mercer shook his head. He had forgotten they had intended to eat in the
Water City.

"I very hungry. Soon we--"

She stopped abruptly, staring up into the sky ahead of them.

Mercer followed her glance. A little black blob showed against the gray;
off to one side two other smaller black dots appeared.

"What's that?" cried Mercer, alarmed.

They watched a few moments in silence. Then Mercer took the cylinder, and
flashed its light into the air.

"If it's anybody connected with Tao, that'll show they'd better keep
away," he explained grimly.

Anina smiled. "Tao people cannot fly, Ollie."

A few moments more and they saw what it was. And within ten minutes they
had landed at the mouth of one of the bayous, and Miela and I were with
them.



CHAPTER XXV.


PREPARATIONS FOR WAR.


The months that followed were the busiest, I think, of my life. I began by
a complete reorganization of this government of which I found myself the
head. For the doddering old councilors of the late king I substituted men
whom I selected from among those of the city's prominent business men who
cared to serve.

The personnel of the police force I allowed to remain, for I soon saw they
were inclined to act very differently under me than under my predecessor.
The various other officials of this somewhat vague organization I
subjected to a thorough weeding out.

The net result was chaos for a time, but, far more quickly than I had
anticipated, I had things running again. I made no radical changes except
in personnel. I attempted to do nothing that was outside the then existing
laws, and no new laws were passed. But from the very first I made it clear
that I was not one to be trifled with.

Within a few days after I was put into power I interviewed Fuero and his
scientific confrÃ¨res. I found them a body of grave men who represented the
highest type of the nation. They made it plain to me at once that they
would not concern themselves in any way with government affairs. Two years
before they had recognized Tao's menace, and had been preparing for it by
the manufacture of large quantities of war material which, in case of
extreme necessity, they would turn over to the government. This armament,
as Miela had told me, they guarded themselves, not trusting it even to
their workmen.

The scientific men, I understood now, were among the richest in the
nation, owing to the widespread use of their industrial appliances. It was
only a portion of this wealth that they were expending in the manufacture
of armament.

I demanded the release to me of this war material. I explained them my
plans, and told them in detail of Tao's visit to earth. They held several
conferences over a period of two or three days, but in the end I got what
I asked for.

So much for affairs in the Great City. I recognized during these days the
possibility of an armed invasion from the Twilight Country. I was better
prepared to meet it now, should it come, and I at once took steps to be
warned as far in advance as possible. To this end I had girls patrolling
the Narrow Sea, not only on our shore, but over in the Twilight Country as
well; and I was satisfied that if Tao made any move we would be notified
at once. Simultaneously with all this, we devoted ourselves to the
unification of the nation, for in very truth it seemed about to
disintegrate. Here it was that the girls were of the greatest assistance.

We organized them into an army which consisted of fifty squads of ten
girls each, with a leader for each squad. All of these girls were armed
with the light-ray cylinders. With this "flying army" Mercer and I made a
tour of the Light Country cities. We wasted no time with formalities, but
rounded up Tao's men wherever we could find them, and transported them
unceremoniously back to the Twilight Country shore.

In two or three of the cities--the Water City particularly--there was a
show of rebellion among the people; but our light-rays cowed them
instantly, and in no instance did we have to kill or injure any one.
Through Miela I made speeches everywhere. It was not my wish to hold the
country in sullen subjection, and to that end I appealed to their
patriotism in this coming war against Tao and the Twilight People. This
aspect of the matter met with ready response, and everywhere our meetings
ended in enthusiastic acclaim.

We started now to raise an army of young men, which we proposed to
transport across the Narrow Sea for land operations in the Twilight
Country. Before a week had passed I saw, by the response that came from my
various proclamations, that conscription would be unnecessary. With this
tangible evidence of the coming war the patriotism of the people grew by
leaps and bounds. The fact that the girls of the Great City were not only
in favor of it, but were actually already in service--a thing
unprecedented in the history of the nation--brought the sympathies of all
the women with us strongly.

Through the governors of each city I raised a separate army of young men,
officered by the older men, most of whom had taken part in past fighting.
Each of these little armies, as yet without arms, was drilled and held in
readiness for orders from the Great City.

I had, during all this time, selected as many able men as possible from
among the Great City's population, and given them over to Fuero and his
associates for training in the use of the light-ray rockets, the larger
projectors, protective measures against the ray, and many other appliances
which I understood only vaguely myself.

It was after our return from the tour of the different cities, and before
the recruiting of the young men was fairly under way, when like a
bombshell came the news from our flying patrol that a fleet of armed boats
was coming down the river from the Lone City. The attack from Tao was at
hand, and our preparations were still far from complete. We had our army
of girls in active operation, and that was all. Tao's boats would reach
the Light Country shore in a few hours. There was no time for anything but
the hastiest of preparations. We decided then to call the army of girls
and meet the boats in the Narrow Sea, turning them back if possible.

I have now to explain the method of defense against the light-ray. In
theory I only vaguely understood it. In practice it was simple and, like
most defenses, only partially effective.

Bob Trevor, has already mentioned it--the suits of black cloth he saw in
the Mercutian camp in Wyoming. It was not, as he had afterward supposed, a
dye for fabrics. Instead, it was the thread of a worm--like our silk
worm--which in its natural state was black and was impervious to the ray.
By that I mean a substance whose molecules increased their vibration rate
only slightly from a brief contact with the ray.

It was only partly efficacious, for after an exposure of a minute or more
the intense heat of the ray was communicated. It then became partly
penetrable, and anything close behind it would be destroyed.

We had under manufacture at this time a number of protective devices by
which this substance might be used. Boats had, in the past, been equipped
with a sort of shield or hood in front, making them more or less
impervious to a direct horizontal beam of the light.

Tao's boats which now threatened us were so protected, I was informed by
the girls who reported them. Recognizing the probability of an attack by
us from the air, they also had a covering of the cloth, like a canopy
above them. But as may be readily understood, such protection could be
made only partly effective.

I had already manufactured, at Miela's suggestion, a number of shields for
our girls to carry while in flight. These consisted of the fabric in very
light, almost diaphanous, form, hung upon a flexible frame of very thin
strips of bamboo. It was some twelve feet broad across the top, narrowing
rapidly into a long fluttering tail like a kite.

There was nothing rigid about this shield. Its two or three bamboo ribs
were as flexible as a whip, with the veiling--it was hardly more than
that--fluttering below them almost entirely unsupported. In weight, the
whole approximated one-twelfth that of a girl, not at all a difficult
amount to carry.

Within two hours after the report came--it was near midday--we were ready
to start from the Great City to repel Tao's attack. Our forces consisted
of some six hundred girls, each armed with a light-ray cylinder and a
shield. This was the organization I have already mentioned, fifty squads
of ten, each with a leader; and fifty other girls, the most daring and
expert in the air, who were to act independently.

We had two platforms, protected by the fabric, and with a sort of canopy
around the sides underneath, over which the girls grasping the handles
could fly. Mercer and Anina rode on one platform, and Miela and I on the
other. All of us were dressed in the black garments.

On each of the platforms we had mounted a projector of higher power than
the hand cylinders, although of course of much less effective range than
those the Mercutians had used in Wyoming.

Thus equipped we rose into the air from the castle grounds in the Great
City, with a silent, awed multitude watching us--as strange an army,
probably, as ever went forth to battle.



CHAPTER XXVI.


THE BATTLE.


We swept out over the Great City, flying in the battle-formation we had
used many times before on our trips about the country. Mercer's platform
and mine were some fifty feet apart, leading. Behind us, in a great
semicircle, the girls spread out, fifty little groups of ten, each with
its single leader in front. Below, a hundred feet perhaps, the fifty other
girls darted back and forth, keeping pace with us. The aspect of these
girls, flying thus to battle, was truly extraordinary. The pink-white
flesh of their bodies; their limbs incased in the black veiling; their
long black or golden hair; and the vivid red or blue feathered wings
flashing behind those wide, fluttering, flimsy black shields--it was a
sight the like of which I never shall see again.

There was almost no wind, for which I was thankful, as it made our
maneuvers in the air considerably less difficult. When we reached the
Narrow Sea our patrols reported that Tao's ships were still in the river,
waiting for others from the Lone City to join them. We hastened on, for I
wished to meet them as near the Twilight shore as possible.

We believed, from the reports our girls had brought us, that the enemy
would have some twenty or thirty boats, most of them similar to that in
which Mercer and Anina weathered the storm on the way to the Water City.

We assumed that the men in the boats would be armed with the hand
light-ray cylinders. These projected a beam not over four inches broad and
had an effective range of about five hundred feet. The boats probably
would carry large projectors also. They might be set up in the boats ready
for use, or they might not.

What range they would have we could not estimate, though we hoped we
should encounter nothing more powerful than this one Miela and I had on
the platform. Its beam was about twenty inches wide, its effective radius
something like a thousand feet.

We did not expect to encounter the very large projectors. We had some in
the Great City with a range of something like ten miles, and others of
lesser range that spread the ray out fan shape. But these were extremely
heavy, and we were confident it would not be practical to mount them in
the boats.

We sighted the enemy in the Narrow Sea just before the Twilight shore was
reached. The first intimation we had was the sight of one of the narrow
beams of red-green light flashing about in the twilight. As we crept
closer, at an altitude of some two thousand feet, we saw the dim outlines
of the boats in the water below.

There were, I made out, some ten or fifteen in sight. They were heading
out into the sea in single file. Miela and I had carefully discussed the
tactics we were to employ. Mercer understood our plans, and we had three
or four girls detailed to fly close to the platforms and carry our orders
about to the leaders of the various little squads.

We sighted the boats when we were about a mile away, and, as I have said,
at an altitude of some two thousand feet. They must have seen us soon
afterward, for many light-rays now began flashing up from them.

So far as I could determine, each boat seemed armed only with one mounted
projector; these I believed to be of somewhat similar power to our own.
Our first move was to poise directly over the enemy, rising to an altitude
of twenty-five hundred feet. The boats kept straight on their way, and we
followed them, circling overhead in lengthening spirals, but keeping well
out of range.

I had ordered that none of the rays be flashed at this time, and it must
have been difficult for the men in the boats below to see us in the dusk,
shrouded as we were in black. They sent up a rocket once; it mounted above
us in a slow flaming arc, hung poised an instant, and then descended,
plunging into the sea a mile or so away. We heard distinctly the hiss of
its contact with the water, and saw, like a quickly dissipating mist, the
cloud of steam that arose.

We were not armed with these rockets, for to discharge them from the
platforms would have been impractical. But we did not fear them being used
against us. Even if true aim had been possible, we could easily avoid
their slow flight.

The protecting canopy below the sides of our platform made it difficult to
see what was going on below us. Miela and I lay prone, with our heads
projecting over its forward end. In this position we had an unobstructed,
though somewhat limited, view. The girls carrying us could see nothing.
They were guided by watching the other girls flying near them, and by
Miela's constant directions.

For some ten or fifteen minutes we circled about over the leading boat.
The Twilight shore was now almost over the horizon. The boats showed as
little black patches on the gray-black of the sea, but the lights flashing
up from them were plainly visible.

The boat that led the line was quite perceptibly drawing away from the
others. Already it was a thousand feet or more ahead of the nearest one
following. We waited through another period. This leading boat was now
beyond range of the others, and, being isolated, I decided to attack it.

"Miela," I said, "tell them all to maintain this level. You and I will go
down at that first boat. Have them all remain up here. Tell Mercer if
anything goes wrong with us to act as he thinks best."

We waited while these commands were circulated about. Mercer's platform
swept close over us, and he shouted: "We _won't_ stay up here."

I persuaded him finally, and then we directed our girls to circle slowly
downward with our platform. I ordered a slow descent, for I was in no mind
to rush blindly into range of their ray.

We drooped down in a spiral, until at about fifteen hundred feet I ordered
the girls to descend no farther. So far as I could make out now, this boat
was protected from above by a broad overhanging canopy. Its sides
evidently were open, or nearly so, for we could see now the smaller rays
flashing out horizontally.

The large projector was mounted in the bow beyond the canopy. Its beam
obviously could be directed into the air, for it was now swinging up
toward us. But in the horizontal position its range was limited to an arc
in front of the boat. I saw then that our play was to attack from a low
level, since only in that way could we expect to reach a vulnerable spot
in the boat's armor. And I believed that if we could keep behind it they
could not reach us with their larger projector.

We swooped downward almost to the water level, and reached it a thousand
feet perhaps off to one side of the boat and partly behind it. The smaller
projectors flashed out at us, but we were beyond their range. The
projector in the bow swung back and forth, and as we skimmed the surface
of the water, heading toward the boat, it turned to face us.

What followed happened so quickly I had no time to consult with Miela. She
directed our flight. I turned the current into our projector and tried to
bring its beam to bear on the boat. We approached within some eight
hundred feet of it, darting back and forth, sometimes rising a hundred
feet or more, sometimes skimming the surface, but always keeping behind
the boat as it turned in an endeavor to face us.

My light-ray beam hit the water frequently, with a great boiling and
hissing, sending up clouds of steam that for a moment obscured the scene.
Once or twice our opponent's beam flashed over us, but we were beyond its
arc before they could bring it directly to bear.

I grew confused at the rapid turns we made. The dark outlines of the boat,
with its twenty or thirty flashing red and green lights, seemed everywhere
at once. I swung my projector about as best I could, but the swiftly
shifting target seemed too elusive. Once, as we dropped suddenly downward,
I thought we should plunge into the hissing, roaring water below. Again,
the opposing ray swung directly under us, as we darted upward to avoid it.

"I can't make it, Miela," I said. "Hold steady toward them if you can."

She did not answer, but kept her face over the platform's end and issued
her swift directions to the girls. Once, as we tilted sharply upward, I
caught a glimpse of a black-shape sweeping past, overhead. It was Mercer's
platform, flying unswervingly toward the boat, its red-green beam steady
before it like a locomotive headlight. We turned to follow; my own light
swung dangerously near Mercer, and I turned the current off hastily.

The wind of our forward flight whistled past my ears; Miela's directions
to the girls rose shrill above it. I caught a glimpse of the darting
lights of the boat ahead. Then, when we were hardly more than six hundred
feet away, Mercer's light picked it up. I saw the little lurid red circle
it made as it struck the boat's canopy top, and roved along it end to end.
Mercer's platform darted lower, and from that angle his light swept under
the canopy. A man's scream of agony came to us across the water. The
lights on the boat were extinguished; only the yellow glare of the flames
rising from its interior fittings remained.

Then, a moment later, the boat's stern rose into the air, and it slid
hissing into the water, leaving only a little wreckage and a few
struggling forms on the swirling surface.

We swung sharply upward. Again Mercer's platform--its light now
extinguished--swept directly over us. His exultant voice floated down.

"We did it, Alan! We did it! Come on up!"

We rose to the upper air, where the girls were still circling about. The
other boats were keeping on their course, spreading farther apart now to
be out of range of each other's projectors. I had hoped they would turn
back with this catastrophe to their leader, but they did not.

I consulted hastily with Miela, and then we gave the order for a general
attack, allowing each of the leading girls to act as she saw fit.

Like a great flock of birds we swooped downward upon our prey, spreading
out to attack all the boats at once. The girls now turned on their hand
lights--a myriad tiny beams darting about in the semidarkness.

I cannot attempt to describe the scene that followed. It can be imagined,
perhaps, but not told in words. As we swept within range of the lights
that swung up from below to meet us, I saw a girl, flying alone, pass
directly through one of the red beams. It seemed to strike her sidewise.
In an instant she had passed beyond it. I saw the dim outlines of her form
as she fluttered onward, wavering and aimless like a wounded bird. And
then she fell, turning over and over as with one wing she strove vainly to
support herself, until at last, wrapped in the sable shroud of her shield,
she plunged with a great splash into the sea.

The flashing light-rays all about us now seemed mingled in inextricable
confusion. The girls must have passed through them frequently, protected
by their shields; and I know our platform was several times struck by them
from below. The absence of sound was uncanny. Only the whistling wind of
our flight, the flapping of the girl's wings, and the hissing of steam as
our rays struck the water, accompanied this inferno of light.

We swept beyond the boat we had singled out, passing five or six hundred
feet above it, and in the effort to avoid its ray turning so that I was
unable to bring mine upon it. As we rose again, beyond it, I saw a boat
off to the left in flames. A dozen girls had rushed upon it, darting in
among its smaller rays to where their own would be effective. But there
was only one girl above it now, struggling brokenly to maintain herself in
flight. The boat sank with the roar of an explosion of some kind, but in
the sudden darkness about I could still see this lone wounded girl
fluttering onward.

We were not far away; I pointed her out to Miela, and instead of swinging
back we kept on toward her. We contrived to pass close under her, and she
fell abruptly almost into my arms. I stretched her out gently on the
platform and turned back to Miela, who was kneeling behind our projector.

We were now nearly half a mile from the nearest of the boats. Several of
them evidently had been sunk, and two or three others were sinking. One I
could make out heading back for the Twilight shore; above it the lights of
our girls following showed vivid against the dark-gray sky. Where Mercer's
platform was I could not tell.

Miela gripped my shoulder.

"See, Alan--there!" She pointed off to one side. "One of the boats tries
to escape."

We were now some five hundred feet above the water. Half a mile beyond us,
all its lights out, one of the boats was scurrying away, on across toward
the Light Country. For some reason none of our girls seemed following it.

Miela issued a sharp command; we swooped downward at lightning speed and,
barely skimming the surface, flew after this escaping enemy. Whether its
larger projector had been rendered inoperative, or many of its crew
killed, or whether it thought merely to escape us and make a landing in
the Light Country, I did not know.

Whatever the reason, no lights showed from this boat as we drew after it.
I had our own light out. When we came close within range I flashed it on
suddenly. We were flying steadily, and I picked up the boat without
difficulty, raking it through from stern to stem under its protecting
canopy. I could see the canopy drop as its supporting metal framework
fused in the heat of the ray; flames rose from the interior wooden
fittings; the boat's stern seemed to melt away as the thin metal was
rendered molten; the water about it boiled under the heat. A cloud of
steam then rose up, obscuring it completely from my sight.

I switched off the light. We continued on, rising a little. The steam
dissipated. Directly below us on the bubbling, swirling water a few
twisted black forms bobbed about. We were so close now I could see them
plainly. I looked away hastily.

We swung back toward the Twilight shore, rising sharply. There seemed now
only one boat afloat. Far above it I saw a tiny black oblong that I knew
was Mercer's platform. A swarm of other dots, with the tiny pencils of red
light flashing from them, showed where the cloud of girls were swooping
down to the attack. Now that we were out of the action, I had opportunity
to watch what was going on more closely.

This last engagement seemed to last less than a minute. The girls darted
fearlessly downward among the rays that swung up from the boat. Scores of
them were hit; I could see their forms illuminated for an instant by the
lurid red and green light. Some passed through it safely; many fell. But
those who got within range hit the boat without difficulty. Its lights
went out suddenly and a moment later it sank. The girls' lights flashed
off, and they rose again into the air--tiny black shapes circling about
Mercer's platform.

The scene now seemed suddenly very dark, peaceful and still. A great
weight lifted from my heart, though it still remained heavy with what I
had seen. I turned to Miela; her face was white and drawn.

"We have won, my girl," I said.

She smiled wanly.

"We have won. But, oh, Alan, that women should have to do such deeds!"

Her eyes shone with the light of a soul in sorrow.

"Pray to your God now, my husband, that this war may be the last, for all
time, in all the universe."



CHAPTER XXVII.


THE SIEGE OF THE LONE CITY.


Our losses totaled nearly a hundred and fifty girls. We brought back with
us on the platforms but six wounded. I shall never forget that hour we
spent searching among the wreckage--those blackened, twisted forms of what
had once been men and women. I shall not describe it.

Of all the boats which Tao had dispatched on this ill-fated expedition,
only one escaped to return with news of the disaster. I was glad now that
one, at least, had survived, for the report it would give would, I felt
sure, dissuade Tao from making any other similar attempt at invasion.

Our broken little army made its way slowly back to the Great City. We
went, not in triumph, but indeed with all the aspect of defeat. The people
received us in a frenzy of joy and gratitude to the girls for what they
had done.

This first battle took place, as I have said, just after we four had
returned from our tour of the Light Country, and before the recruiting of
the young men was fairly under way. To this recruiting it proved an
extraordinary stimulus. The girls, having been in successful action,
stirred the young men of the nation as probably nothing else could, and
all over the country they came forward faster than they could be enrolled.

It was two or three days after the battle that Miela came to me one
morning with the wounded girl she and I had rescued in the air.

"We have a plan--Sela and I--my husband," she said.

The girl seemed hardly more than a sweet little child--fifteen or sixteen,
perhaps. It gave me a shock now to realize that we had allowed her to go
into such a combat. One of her blue-feathered wings was bound in a cloth.
Its lower portion, I could tell, had been burned away.

"Never will she fly again, my husband," said Miela, "for she is one of
those who has sacrificed her wings that we might all be safe from the
invader."

She then went on to explain that now, while this feeling of gratitude to
the girls ran so high among the people, the time seemed propitious for
changing the long-hated law regarding their wings. I had not thought of
that, but agreed with her wholly.

I called the people into the castle gardens that same night. Never had I
seen such a gathering. We allowed fully ten thousand to come in; the rest
we were forced to send away.

Miela made a speech, telling them that in recognition of the girls'
services in this war, I had decided to allow them henceforth to keep their
wings unmutilated after marriage. We exhibited this little girl, Sela, as
one who had given her power of flight, not as a sacrifice on the altar of
man's selfishness, but in the service of her country. Then Sela herself
made a speech, in her earnest little child voice, pleading for her
sisters.

When she ended there may have been some unmarried men in our audience who
were still against the measure--doubtless there were--but they were afraid
or ashamed to let their feeling be known. When the meeting broke up I had
ample evidence of the people's wishes upon which to proceed.

Within a week my congress met, and the law was repealed. We informed the
other cities of this action, and everywhere it was met with enthusiasm.

Enlistment and war preparations went steadily on, but despite it all there
were more marriages that next month--three times over--than in any before.
I had now been in power some three months, and the time was approaching
when we were ready to make our invasion of the Twilight Country. We had
been maintaining a rigid aÃ«rial patrol of the Narrow Sea, but no further
activities of the enemy had been threatened.

The expedition, when it was ready, numbered about a thousand young men,
each armed with one of the hand light-ray cylinders; fifty officers, and
about fifty older men in charge of the projectors and rockets, who, for
want of a better term, I might call our artillery corps. There was also
the organization of girls, and a miscellaneous corps of men to handle the
boats, mechanics to set up the projectors, and a commissariat.

The thousand young men represented those we had selected from the several
thousand enlisted in the Great City. All the rest, and the many thousands
in the other cities, we were holding in reserve.

We took with us, on this invading expedition, only small-wheeled trucks,
on which to convey the larger projectors, and storage tanks and other
heavy apparatus, for the Lone City river ran directly to the point where
we planned to conduct our siege.

Some forty large boats were required to carry the men, ammunition and
supplies. Mercer and I, with Anina and Miela, traveled as before through
the air on the two platforms with the girls. We crossed the Narrow Sea
without incident and entered the river.

Several hours up, the river narrowed and entered a rocky gorge, four or
five hundred feet wide and a thousand feet deep, with almost perpendicular
sides. Along one of these ran the Lone City trail. We passed through this
gorge. The river here flowed with a current that amounted almost to
rapids. Our boats made slow progress. Finally we emerged into an even
wilder country, almost devoid of trees. Here we made our first night's
encampment.

Noon of the next day found us approaching the Lone City. We did not need
to surmise now that Tao would be warned, for far away on the horizon ahead
we saw the beams from his great projectors mounting up into the blackness
of the sky. Some four miles from the Lone City the river we were ascending
swept off to the right. This was its closest point to the city, and here
we disembarked. There were several docks and a few houses, but we found
them all deserted.

The Lone City was particularly well suited to defense, even though the lay
of the country was such that we were enabled to approach here within four
miles, and establish our base in comparative safety. The country was wild
and rocky, with few trees. The river bed lay in a caÃ±on. From where we
landed, a valley so deep and narrow, it might almost be termed a caÃ±on,
also led up to the city.

This valley was some two miles wide, with a level floor, and precipitous,
rocky sides towering in many places over a thousand feet. Above it
stretched a broken plateau country. The valley had many sharp bends and
turns, as though in some distant past it had been the bed of a great river
that had eroded its tortuous course through the rock.

The Lone City lay shut in at the bottom of this valley between two of its
bends. It was a settlement of perhaps ten thousand people, the only city
in the Twilight Country, with one exception, on this hemisphere of
Mercury.

We established our field base here at the river, and I devoted the next
few days to informing myself of the exact lay of the country, and the
methods of defense of the city Tao had provided.

I found this defense the height of simplicity, and for its purpose as
effective as it well could be. A vertical barrage of light surrounded the
city, extending upward into the air with the most powerful projectors some
ten or fifteen miles, and, with those of the spreading rays, forming a
solid wall of light at the lower altitudes. There were no projectors past
the first turn in the valley toward the river--where they could have been
directed horizontally--and none of them on the cliff tops above the city.
Thus, although we could not get over this light-barrage, we could approach
it closely in many places.

Tao's tactics became immediately evident. He had thrown an almost
impregnable barrier close about him and, trusting to its protection, was
making no effort to combat us for the moment with any moves of offense.

My first endeavor was to find a position on top of the cliffs from which
the city could be reached with a projector. It was practically the only
thing to do. The city could not be approached in front from the valley
floor; its entire surface beyond the turn was swept by the light-rays.
Approach from below in the rear was likewise barred.

Had the barrage been not so high our girls might have flown over it and
dropped bombs, or we might have sent rockets over it and dropped them into
the city. Neither of these projects was practical. The girls could not fly
over that barrage. It was too cold in the higher altitudes. Nor could we
send rockets over, for rockets sent through the light were exploded before
they could reach their mark.

The projectors along the sides of the city were located for the most part
a hundred feet or more back from the base of the surrounding cliffs. This
allowed them to cut the cliff face at the top. It will be understood then
that we could approach the brink of the cliff in many places, but never
sufficiently near to be able to direct our rays downward into the city.

These cliffs were exceedingly jagged and broken. They overhung in many
places. Great rifts split them; ravines wound their way down, many of
these with small, stunted trees growing in them. A descent from the summit
to the floor of the valley, had we been unimpeded by the light, would in
many places not have been difficult.

During the next week, we succeeded--working in the prevailing gloom--in
establishing a projector at the mouth of a ravine which emerged at the
cliff face hardly a hundred feet from the valley bottom. This point was
below the spreading light-rays which swept the cliff top above. We mounted
the projector without discovery, and, flashing it on suddenly, swept the
valley with its rays. An opposing ray from below picked it out almost
immediately, and destroyed it, killing two of our men.

The irregularities of the cliffs made several other similar attempts
possible. We took advantage of them, and in each case were able to rake
the valley with our fire for a moment before our projector was located and
destroyed. One, which we were at great pains to protect, was maintained
for a somewhat longer period.

I believed we had done an immense amount of damage by these momentarily
active projectors, although our enemy gave no sign.

We then tried dropping rockets at the base of the lights in the valley.
There were few points at which they could be reached without striking the
rays first. But we persisted, sending up a hundred or more. Most were
ineffective; a few found their mark, as we could tell by a sudden "hole"
in the barrage, which, however, was invariably repaired before we could
make it larger.

These activities lasted a week or more. It began, to look as though we had
entered upon a lengthy siege. I wondered how long the city's food supply
would last if we settled down to starve it out. The thought came to me
then that Tao might be almost ready for his second expedition to the
earth. Was he indeed merely standing us off in this way so that some day
he might depart in his vehicle before our very eyes?

Tao began to adopt our tactics. Without warning one day a projector from a
towering eminence near the city flashed down at the river encampment. That
we were not entirely destroyed was due to the extreme watchfulness of our
guards, who located it immediately with their rays. As it was, we lost
nearly a hundred men in the single moment it was in operation.

We then withdrew our camp farther away down the river, to a point where
the conformation of the country made a repetition of this attack
impossible. A sort of guerrilla warfare now began in the mountains. Our
scouting parties frequently met Tao's men, and many encounters, swiftly
fatal to one side or the other, took place. But all the time we were able,
at intervals, to rake the valley with our fire for brief periods.

Mercer constantly was evolving plans of the utmost daring, most of them
indeed amounting practically to suicide for those undertaking them. But I
held him back. Our present tactics were dangerous enough, although after
the first few fatalities we succeeded in protecting our men, even though
our projectors were invariably destroyed.

One of Mercer's plans we tried with some success. There were some places
in the light-barrage that were much less high than others. We devised a
smaller rocket that could be fired from the platforms. Mercer took it up
some twenty thousand feet, and sent several rockets over the light, which
we hoped dropped into the city.

A month went by in this way. We were in constant communication by water
with the Great City, receiving supplies and reÃ«nforcements of men and
armament. And then gradually the situation changed. Over a period of
several days our hand-to-hand encounters with the enemy grew less
frequent. Finally two or three days went by without one of them taking
place.

We became bolder and prepared to establish several projectors at different
points for simultaneous fire at a given signal. The light-barrage in the
valley remained unchanged, although now its beams held steady instead of
sometimes swinging to and fro. We dislodged one of its projectors with a
rocket, making a hole in the barrage, which this time was not repaired.
And then, to our amazement, the lights one by one began to die away. We
ceased operations, waiting. Within half a day they had all vanished, like
lights which had flickered and burned out.

Mercer, unthinking, was all for an instant attack. We could indeed have
swept the valley now without difficulty; but there were thousands of
people in the city--non-combatants, women and children--and to murder them
to no purpose was not the sort of warfare we cared to make.

It seemed probable that Tao had evacuated his position. The valley beyond
the city led up into the mountains toward the Dark City, almost on the
borderland of the frozen wastes of the Dark Country. Tao had protected
this valley from behind so that we had been unable to penetrate it without
making a detour of over twenty miles. This I had not done, although had
the siege lasted longer I think with our next reÃ«nforcement we should have
attempted it.

With the extinguishing of the lights our long-range activities ceased. We
anticipated some trick, and for several days remained quiet. Our girls
could have flown over the city; but this I would not allow, fearing that a
ray would bring them suddenly down.

Miela and myself, occupying one of the stone houses down by the river,
held a consultation there with Mercer and Anina.

Mercer, as usual, was for instant action.

"We might as well march right in," he declared. "They're out of business,
or they've gone--one or the other."

"To the Dark City they have gone, I think," Anina said.

"I think so, too," Mercer agreed.

"_I'll_ go in alone on foot," I said, "and find out what has happened."

But Miela shook her head.

"One who can fly will go more safely. I shall go."

"Not you, my sister," Anina said quietly. "Warfare is not for you--now.
That you can understand, can you not? _I_ shall go."

Mercer insisted on accompanying her; and he did, part of the way, waiting
while she flew close over the city. It was several hours before they
returned, reporting that the place was almost in ruins, and that Tao and
his men had fled some time before, leaving the light-barrage to burn
itself out. The next day, with our men in the black cloth suits of armor
marching up the valley, and the girls with their black shields flying
overhead, we took possession of all that remained of the Lone City.



CHAPTER XXVIII.


THE END OF TAO.


The scene of desolation that met us in the Lone City was at once
extraordinary and awesome. It seemed impossible that our rays, acting for
so brief a period, could have done so much damage. The city was nothing
more than a semicivilized settlement of little, flat-topped stone houses.
Our rays, striking these, had discharged harmlessly into the ground. But
the interiors had been penetrated through windows and doors, and
everything inflammable about them, as well as about the streets, had been
destroyed.

The people had taken refuge in cellars underground and in caves and
crevices--wherever they could find shelter. But even so, there were a
thousand dead in that city that morning, and rapidly spreading disease
would shortly have killed them all. They came out of their hiding places
little by little as we entered the streets, and stood about in groups
staring at us sullenly. They seemed mostly old men and women and children,
the younger men having fled with Tao's army. They were heavy-set, pathetic
people, with broad, heavy faces, pasty-white skin, and large protruding
eyes. We were in the Lone City nearly a month, burying the dead, doing
what we could for the people, and destroying or removing the apparatus Tao
had left behind him.

The Lone City, before the banishment of Tao, had been one of the most
primitive settlements of the Twilight region. It was in the other
hemisphere that the Twilight Country was more densely populated; but since
this Lone City was so close to the Great City it had become the scene of
Tao's exile.

This region about the Lone City was of the most barren of the whole
Twilight country. Its people were almost entirely meat eaters. Back toward
the Dark Country great bands of animals like caribou roamed. Living almost
entirely in darkness, they had little power of sight, and were easy prey
to hunters.

Their hides, which were covered with short, white fur, provided clothing;
a form of candle was made from their fat, and used for lighting; and their
flesh provided food. The Dark City, some two hundred and fifty miles away,
was the center from which most of these animals were obtained.

"Then, that's where Tao has been getting his supplies from," Mercer
exclaimed, as we heard all this from one of the Twilight People. "And
that's where he has gone now."

Tao had indeed withdrawn to the Dark City, we learned positively. And more
than that, we learned that he had factories there as well as here. We
found in the Lone City some eight of the interplanetary vehicles--most of
them almost entirely completed. The fact that Tao had abandoned them so
readily made us believe he had others in the Dark City.

There seemed a curious lack of appliances for protection against the ray.
This we attributed to two causes--that Tao had managed to take most of
them with him, and that his supply of fabric came from distant cities on
the other side of the globe. Within a month after we had occupied the Lone
City we were again ready to start forward. It had been an irksome month
for Mercer, and not a day had passed without my receiving a truculent
declaration from him that we were fools to allow Tao to escape so easily.

Our occupation of the Lone City was to continue. On this second expedition
farther into the Twilight Country I took with me a much smaller and more
select force. We had before us a land journey of some two hundred and
fifty miles, through an unknown, barren country, in which it would be
difficult for us to maintain ourselves, so I was determined to be burdened
with as few men as possible.

Our force consisted of all the older men trained in the operation of the
larger projectors and rockets; a variety of mechanics and helpers, men
selected for their physical strength; a corps of young men to the number
of fifty, and fifty girls.

We did not take the platforms, for I assumed it would be too cold for the
girls to make sustained flights. Against this cold we provided ourselves
well with the white furry garments of the Twilight People. I need not go
into details of our march to the Dark City. It occupied some three weeks.
We met with no opposition, passing a few isolated settlements, whose
inhabitants rather welcomed us than otherwise.

This region we passed through took us almost to the ill-defined borders of
the Dark Country. It was not mountainous, but rather more a great broken
plateau with a steady ascent. Each day it grew darker and colder, until at
last we entered perpetual night. It was not the sort of night we know on
earth, but a Stygian blackness.

We used little torches now, of the light-ray current, and our little army,
trudging along in their lurid glare, and dragging its wagons piled high
with the projectors, presented a curious and weird picture. The country
for the most part was barren rock, with a few stunted trees growing in the
ravines and crevices. There was an abundance of water.

We encountered several rainstorms, and once during the last week it snowed
a little. Except for the storms, the wind held steady, a gentle breeze
from the colder regions in front blowing back toward the Light Country
behind us.

During the latter days of our journey I noticed a curious change in the
ground. It seemed now, in many places, to be like a soft, chalky
limestone, which ran in pockets and seams between strata of very hard
rock. I called Miela's attention to it once, and she pointed out a number
of irregular shaped, small masses of a substance which in daylight I
assumed might be yellow. These were embedded in the soft limestone.

"Sulphur," she said. "Like that on your earth. There is much of it up
here, I have heard."

The Dark City occupied a flat plateau, slightly elevated above the
surrounding country, and on the brink of a sheer drop of some six or seven
thousand feet to an arm of the polar sea.

Our problems now were very different from when we had laid siege to the
Lone City. The conformation of the country allowed us no opportunity to
approach closer than two or three miles to the barrage of light we must
expect. We could not reach the city from these nearest points with our
projectors.

There were many lateral ravines depressed below the upper surface of the
main plateau, and though the light-rays from the city, directed
horizontally, would sweep their tops, we found we could traverse many of
them a considerable distance in safety. But from the bottoms of them we
could only fire our rockets without specific aim and our projectors not at
all.

Only by the most fortuitous of circumstances did we escape complete
annihilation the first moment we appeared within range. We had no idea
what lay ahead--although the guides we had brought with us from the Lone
City informed us we were nearing our destination--and the scene remained
in complete darkness until we were hardly more than five miles outside
Tao's stronghold.

Then, without warning, his lights flashed on--not only a vertical barrage,
but a horizontal one as well--sweeping the higher points of the entire
country around for a distance of twelve or fifteen miles.

We were, at the moment, following the bottom of a narrow gully. Had we
been on any of the upper reaches of the plateau we would undoubtedly have
been picked out by one of the roving beams of light and destroyed.

We camped where we were, and again for several days I attempted nothing,
devoting myself to a thorough exploration of the country about us. The
Dark City appeared impregnable. Beams of light from Tao's larger
projectors were constantly roaming about the entire plateau that
surrounded it, and every higher point of vantage from which one of ours
could have reached them must have been struck by their rays a score of
times a day.

It will be understood, of course, that any place where we could mount one
of the higher powered projectors, a task of several hours at best, and
strike the city, must of necessity be also within range of their rays, for
theirs were as powerful as ours. Upon observation I felt convinced that
should we attempt to mount a projector anywhere on these higher points it
would be sought out and destroyed long before we could bring it into
action.

That this was Tao's stronghold, and not the Lone City, now became evident.
I could readily understand why he had retreated here. Fully four times as
many projectors as he had in operation in the Lone City were now in
evidence. Those of shorter range, and spreading rays, kept the entire
country bathed in steady light for several miles around him, while the
larger ones--a hundred of them possibly--roved constantly over the black
emptiness beyond.

From our encampment we could advance but little farther. Fortunately,
retreat was open to us; and once beyond the circle of steady light, we had
no difficulty in moving about in the darkness, even though momentarily we
frequently were within range of the single light-beams, had they chanced
to swing upon us.

This was the situation which, even Mercer agreed, appeared hopeless. We
explored the brink of the precipice below which lay the sea. It was a
sheer drop of many thousand feet. Although a descent might have been made
closer to the Dark City, certainly it was not possible at any point we
could reach. We sent our girls down, and they reported that from below it
appeared probable that access to the ocean was had by the Dark City some
miles farther along. They went but a short distance, for Tao's lights were
occasionally sweeping about; and more than that, they could make but very
short flights, owing to the cold.

To starve Tao out appeared equally as impractical as a direct attack. With
our little army we could not surround the city on a circumference of some
eighty miles. We might, indeed, have barred the several roads that entered
it, but it seemed probable that if Tao wanted to come out he would come,
for all we could do to stop him. And yet to starve him out seemed our only
possible plan.

"We'll have to send back for reÃ«nforcements," I told Mercer, Miela and
Anina at one of our many conferences. "An army of several thousand, if we
can maintain it up here."

And then, the very next day, Mercer and Anina came forward with their
discovery. We had set up our encampment of little black fabric tents in a
ravine some six miles outside the city, securely hidden by surrounding
cliffs. Above us across the black sky the greenish-red beams of Tao's
light-rays swept continually to and fro. Miela and I were sitting together
disconsolately in our tent, reviewing the situation, when Mercer and Anina
burst in. They had been roaming about together, exploring the country, and
came in now full of excitement and enthusiasm to tell us what they had
found. We two were to accompany them. They would tell us no more than
that; and as soon as we had all eaten we started off. It would be a trip
of several hours, Mercer said, and would take us around to the other side
and partly behind the Dark City.

We followed no road, but scrambled along over the open country, picking
our way as best we could, and using the lights from the city to give us
direction. The two girls half walked, half flew, and Mercer and I, with
our ability to take huge leaps, made rapid progress.

The night was black--that unluminous blackness that seems to swallow
everything, even objects near at hand. We made our way along, using little
hand searchlights that threw a red glare a short distance before us.

We kept down in the gulleys as much as possible, avoiding the higher
places where Tao's long-range beams were constantly striking, and passed
around in front of the Dark City, keeping always at least five miles away.

We had been traveling two or three hours, and still Mercer and Anina gave
us no clew to what we were about to see. It began to snow. Huge, soft
flakes soon lay thick on the ground.

"Mercer, where are you taking us?" I exclaimed once.

"You shall see very soon now," Anina answered me. "What we have found,
Ollie and I--and our plan--you shall understand it soon."

We had to be content with that. An hour later we found ourselves well
around behind the Dark City and hardly more than four miles outside it. A
great jagged cliff-face, two hundred feet high perhaps, fronted us. We, at
its base, were on comparatively low ground here, with another low line of
cliffs shading us from the light-beams of the city.

Mercer and Anina stopped and pointed upward at the cliff. A huge seam of
the soft, chalky limestone ran laterally for five hundred feet or more
across its face. I saw embedded in this seam great irregular masses of
sulphur.

"There you are," said Mercer triumphantly. "Sulphur--stacks of it. All we
have to do is set fire to it. With the wind blowing this way--right toward
the city--" His gesture was significant.

The feasibility of the plan struck us at once. It was an enormous deposit
of free sulphur. From this point the prevailing wind blew directly across
the city. The sulphur lay in great masses sufficiently close together so
that if we were to set fire to it in several places with our small
light-ray torches we could be assured of its burning steadily. And its
fumes, without warning, blowing directly over the city--I shuddered as the
whole thing became clear to me.

"Good God, man--"

"That'll smoke 'em out," declared Mercer, waving his hand again toward the
cliff. "I ask you now, won't that smoke 'em out?"

"Tao's men--yes." Miela's face was grave as she answered Mercer's
triumphant question. "It will do that, Ollie. Kill them all, of a
certainty; but that whole city there--"

Mercer stared at his feet, toying idly with the little torch in his hand.

"Can you think of any other way to get at Tao?" he asked.

Anina met my eyes steadily.

"There is no other way," she said quietly. "It must be done. It is your
world--your people--we must think of now. And you know there is no other
way."

We decided at last to try it. Once we had made the decision, we proceeded
as quickly as possible to put the plan into execution. We moved our
encampment farther away, well out of danger from the fumes.

We mounted several of the projectors in positions where their rays could
reach the surrounding country, and the sky, although not the city itself.
Then, ordering our men and girls to hold themselves in readiness for
whatever might occur, we four went off together to fire the sulphur.

The wind was blowing directly toward the city as we stood at the base of
the cliff, a silent little group. I think that now, at this moment, we all
of us hesitated in awe at what we were about to do.

Mercer broke the tension.

"Come on, Alan--let's start it off. Now is the time--a lot of places at
once."

We flashed on our little light-rays, and in a moment the sulphur was on
fire at a score of different points. We drew off a few hundred feet to one
side and sat down to watch it in the darkness. Overhead Tao's red beams
swept like giant search-lights across the inky sky.

The sulphur started burning with tiny little spots of wavering blue flame
that seemed, many of them, about to die away. Gradually they grew larger,
spreading out slowly and silently in ever-widening circles. Under the heat
of the flames the sulphur masses became molten, turned into a viscous dark
red fluid that boiled and bubbled heavily and dropped spluttering upon the
ground.

Slowly the blue-green flames spread about, joining each other and making
more rapid headway--a dozen tiny volcanoes vomiting their deadly fumes and
pouring forth their sluggish, boiling lava. The scene about us now was
lighted in a horrible blue-green glare. A great cloud of thin smoke
gathered, hung poised a moment, and then rolled slowly away--its deadly
fumes hanging low to the ground and spreading ever wider as though eager
to clutch the unsuspecting city in their deadly embrace.

The entire face of the cliff was now covered with the crawling blue fire,
lapping avidly about with its ten-foot tongues. We drew back, staring
silently at each other's ghastly green faces.

"Let's--let's get away," Mercer whispered finally. "No use staying here
now."

We hurried back to the nearest place where one of our projectors was set
up. The two men guarding it looked at us anxiously, and smiled
triumphantly when Miela told them what we had done. We stood beside them a
moment, then Miela and I climbed to an eminence near by from which we had
an unobstructed view of the city.

The light-barrage still held steady. The individual, higher-powered
projectors as before swung their beams lazily about the country. We sat
partly in the shelter of a huge bowlder, behind which we could have
dropped quickly had one of them turned our way.

"Soon it will be there," Miela said softly, when we had been sitting quiet
for a time.

I did not answer. It was indeed too solemn a thing for words, this
watching from the darkness while an invisible death, let loose by our own
hands, stole down upon our complacent enemies.

A few moments more we watched--and still the scene before us showed no
change. Then, abruptly, the lights seemed to waver; some of the beams
swung hurriedly to and fro, then remained motionless in unusual positions,
as though the men at their levers in sudden panic had abandoned them.

My heart was beating violently. What hidden tragedy was being enacted
behind that silent barrier of light? I shuddered as my imagination
conjured up hideous pictures of that unseen death that now must be
stalking about those city streets, entering those homes, polluting the air
with its stifling, noisome breath, and that even at this distance seemed
clutching at my own lungs.

I suppose the whole thing _did_ last only a moment. There was little in
what we saw of significance had we not known. But we did know--and the
knowledge left us trembling and unnerved.

I leaped to my feet, pulling Miela after me, and in a few moments more we
were back beside the projector we had left with Mercer and Anina. Suddenly
a white shape appeared in the sky over the city. It passed perilously
close above the shattered light-barrage and came sailing out in our
direction.

Mercer jumped for the projector, but I was nearer, and in a moment I had
flashed it on.

"It's Tao!" Mercer shouted. "He--"

It was one of Tao's interplanetary vehicles, rising slowly in a great arc
above us. I swung our light-beams upward; it swept across the sky and fell
upon the white shape; the thing seemed to poise in its flight, as though
held by the little red circle of light that fastened upon it, boring its
way in. Then, slowly at first, it fell; faster and faster it dropped,
until it struck the ground with a great crash--the first and only sound of
all this soundless warfare.

       *       *       *       *       *

It was three days before the great sulphur deposit we had ignited burned
itself out. The lights of the city had all died away, and blackness such
as I never hope to experience again settled down upon the scene.

We approached the Dark City then; we even entered one or two of its
outlying houses;, but beyond that we did not go, for we had made certain
of what we wanted to know.

I remember my father once describing how, when a young man, he had gone to
the little island of Martinique shortly after the great volcanic outbreak
of Mount PelÃ©e. I remember his reluctance to dwell upon the scenes he saw
there in that silent city of St. Pierre--the houses with their dead
occupants, stricken as they were sitting about the family table; the
motionless forms in the streets, lying huddled where death had overtaken
them in their sudden panic. That same reluctance silences me now, for one
does not voluntarily dwell upon such scenes as those.

A day or so later we found the interplanetary projectile which had sought
to escape. Amid its wreckage lay the single, broken form of Tao--that
leader who, plotting the devastation of two worlds for his own personal
gain, had at the very last deserted his comrades and met his death alone.



CHAPTER XXIX.


THE RETURN.


There is but little more to add. With the death of Tao and the changing of
the law concerning the virgins' wings, my mission on Mercury was over. But
I did not think of that then, for with the war ended, my position as
virtual ruler of the Light Country still held Mercer and me occupied with
a multiplicity of details. It was a month or more after our return from
the Twilight Country that Miela reminded me of father and my duty to him.
"You have forgotten, my husband. But I have not. Your world--it calls you
now. You must go back."

Go back home--to father and dear little Beth! I had not realized how much
I had wanted it.

"What you have done for our nation--for our girls--can never be repaid,
Alan. And you can do more in later years, perhaps. But now your father
needs you--and we must think of him."

I cast aside every consideration of what changes would first have to be
made here on Mercury, and decided in that moment to go.

"But you must go with me, Miela," I said, and then, as I thought of
something else, I added gently: "You will, won't you, little wife? For you
know I cannot leave you now."

She smiled her tender little smile.

"'Whither thou goest, I will go,' my husband," she quoted softly, "'for
thy people shall be my people, and thy God my God.'"

We were ready to start at the time of the next inferior conjunction of
Mercury with the earth. At our combined pleading, and with the permission
of his associates, Fuero was persuaded to take command of the nation
during my absence; and I felt I was leaving affairs in able hands.

Lua refused to accompany us; but she urged Anina to go, and the little
girl was ready enough to take advantage of her mother's permission.

Though he said nothing, I shall never forget Mercer's face as this
decision was made.

The vehicle in which Miela had made her former trip was still lying in the
valley where we had left it. We went away privately, only Lua and Fuero
accompanying us out of the city.

Lua parted with her two daughters quietly. Her emotions at seeing them go
she concealed under that sweet, gentle reserve which was characteristic of
her always.

"Promise me you will be careful of her, Alan," she said softly as she
kissed me at parting.

       *       *       *       *       *

We landed in the Chilean Andes, with that patient statue of the Christ to
welcome us back to earth. The Trans-Andean Railroad runs near it, and we
soon were in the city of Buenos Aires. The two girls, with wings shrouded
in their long cloaks, walked about its crowded streets with a wonderment
I can only vaguely imagine. We had only what little money I had taken with
me to Mercury. I interviewed a prominent banker of the city, told him in
confidence who I was, and from him obtained necessary funds.

We cabled father then, and he answered at once that he would come down and
join us. We waited for him down there, and in another month he was with
us--dear old gentleman, leaning over the steamer rail, trying to hold back
the tears of joy that sprang into his eyes at sight of me. Little Beth was
with him, too, smart and stylish as ever, and good old Bob Trevor, whom
she shyly presented as her husband.

The beach at Mar del Plata, near Buenos Aires, is one of the most
beautiful spots in South America; and on a clear moonlit night, with the
Southern Cross overhead, it displays the starry heavens as few other
places can on this earth.

On such a night in February, 1942, Mercer and Anina sat together on the
sand, apart from the gay throng that crowded the pavilion below them. The
girl was dressed all in white, with a long black cape covering her wings.
Her beautiful blond hair was piled on her head in huge soft coils, and
over it she had thrown a filmy, sky-blue mantilla that shone with a soft
luster in the moonlight and seemed reflected in the blue of her eyes.

Mercer in white flannels sat beside her, cross-legged on the white sand,
with a newly purchased Hawaiian guitar across his lap. From the band stand
in the pavilion down the beach faint strains of music floated up to them.
The moon silvered the water before them; a soft, gentle breeze of summer
caressed their cheeks; the myriad stars glittered overhead like brilliant
gems scattered on the turquoise velvet of the sky.

Anina, chin cupped in her hand, sat staring at the wonderful heavens that
all her life before had been withheld from her sight. She sighed
tremulously.

"I want to say this is a night," Mercer declared, breaking a long silence.

"It's--it's beautiful," she answered softly. "Those millions of
worlds--like mine, perhaps--or like this one of yours." She turned to him.
"Ollie, which of them is my world?"

"You can't see it now, Anina. It's too close to the sun."

Again she sighed. "I'm sorry for that. It would seem closer, perhaps, if
we could see it."

"You're not sorry you came, Anina? You don't want to go back now?"

"Not now, Ollie." She smiled into his earnest, pleading eyes. "For those I
love are here as well as there. I have Miela and Alan--and--"

"And?" Mercer leaned forward eagerly.

"And Miela's little son--that darling little baby. We must go back soon
and see Miela. She will be wondering where we are."

Mercer sat back. "Oh," he said. "Yes, we must."

The band in the pavilion stopped its music. Mercer slid his little steel
cross-piece over the guitar strings and began to play the haunting, crying
music of the islands, the music of moonlight and love. After a moment he
stopped abruptly.

"Anina, that little song you sang in the boat that day--you remember--the
day we went to the Water City? Sing it again, Anina."

She sang it through softly, just as she had in the boat, to its last
ending little half-sob.

Mercer laid his guitar on the sand beside him.

"You said that music talks to you, Anina--though sometimes you--you don't
understand just what it tries to say. I feel it that way, too--only--only
to-night--now--I think I _do_ understand."

His voice was very soft and earnest and just a trifle husky.

"You said that it was a love-song, Anina, and it was sad because love is
sad. Do you--think love is always sad?" He put out his hand awkwardly and
touched hers.

"Do you, Anina?" he whispered.

Her little figure swayed toward him. She half turned, and in her shining
eyes he saw the light that needs no words to make its meaning clear.

The timidity that so often before had restrained him was swept away; he
took her abruptly into his arms, kissing her hair, her eyes, her lips.

"Love isn't--always very sad, is it, Anina?"

Her arms held him close.

"I--I don't know," she breathed against his shoulder. "But it's--it's
very--wonderful."