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"Shoot, and shoot to kill," he shouted above the turmoil. "Don't let a single one get away." Automatics spat their leaden hail, dynol pellets flamed redly, and over all resounded the rapid drum fire of the machine gun, pouring steel-jacketed death into the confused ranks of the Mercutians. The monster invaders had lost their heads.
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.
The sparkle came back to his eyes, his brain cleared of the fog of hopelessness as he took command. Joan was lost yes but there was the Earth to be saved. His orders crackled. The little gorge became a hive of activity. With Grim and Waters as efficient assistants he soon whipped the tiny company into ordered discipline. Absurdly few to fight the Mercutians, but Hilary counseled patience.
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.
America was the last old Amos Peabody vowed he would rather go down to utter destruction than yield but he was out-voted in Council. It was pure slaughter otherwise, without a chance to fight back. At once the Mercutians set up their government. The Earth was turned into a colony. The leader of the invaders, the son of the Mercutian emperor, became Viceroy, with absolute powers.
Slowly, very slowly, he pressed the button to release the slide. It slid open at a barely perceptible rate. As the slender crack widened, Hilary, looked in, taking care to keep his body to one side. In the Hands of the Mercutians A Mercutian was lolling in a reclining chair, his gray, warty face turned half away from Hilary.
Three days later three footsore, weary, hungry men skulked in the edge of the woods near a little clearing in the Ramapos. For three days they had ducked and dodged and literally burrowed into the ground by day, traveling only at night. Above and around them the noise of pursuit rolled. The Mercutians were persistent.
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.
To Hilary's fascinated gaze it seemed as if there would be a terrific smash. But the Vagabond came to a screaming, braking halt directly in the center of the milling, scattering Mercutians. Almost simultaneously the air resounded with staccato bursts. Ratatat-tat-a-tat. "Good little Wat," Grim danced insanely. "He's cutting loose the submachine gun." Hilary woke from his amazement with a start.
There was the noise of padding feet up the ramp. The Mercutians were coming, in force. Grim gripped Hilary by the shoulder, shook him vigorously. "They're coming. We're trapped." Grendon snapped out of the lethargy into which he had sunk, face drawn and gray. "No. There is a way. Follow me."
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