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Updated: June 24, 2025
The deep baying of the revolver roared out in twin jets of flame. Stern broke the gun and jacked in two more shells. Again he fired. "Good Heaven! How many of 'em are there in the trees?" shouted he. "Try the Pulverite!" cried Beatrice. "Maybe you might hit a branch!" Stern flung down the gun. To the corner where the vials were standing he ran.
By the firelight vague shapes came and went, their shadows grotesquely flung against the leafy screens. The figures quickened their paces and their gestures; then suddenly, with cries, flung themselves into wild activity. And all about the fire, Stern saw a wheeling, circling, eddying mob of black and frightful shapes. "The swine!" he breathed. "Wait wait till I make a pint or two of Pulverite!"
You've got water, that's enough. You've made good, where I failed. Well " His voice broke again, and he grew silent. But she, peering at him with wonder, laid a hand upon his shoulder. "Come," said she, "you must eat something, too. I've got a little supper ready. After that, the Pulverite?" He started as though shot. "That's so! I can make it now!" cried he, new life and energy suffusing him.
They've seen the light got our range! They're up there in the tree-tops shooting at us!" With one puff, the light was gone. By the wrist he seized Beatrice. He dragged her toward the front wall, off to one side, out of range. "The flasks of Pulverite! Suppose a dart should hit one?" exclaimed the girl. "That's so! Wait here I'll get them!"
"What I need, now," thought he, "is about a hundred pounds of high-grade dynamite, or a gallon of nitroglycerin. Better still, a dozen capsules of my own invention, my 'Pulverite! "I guess that would settle things mighty quick. It would be the joker in this game, all right! Well, why not make some? With what chemicals I've got left, couldn't I work up a half-pint?
He could see quick spurts of water jet up along the edge of the sand, and one of the creatures fell, but this was only a chance shot. At that distance, firing from a swift-skimming plane, he knew he could do no execution, and with a curse slid the pistol back again into its place. "Oh, for a dirigible and a few Pulverite bombs, same as we had in the tower!" he wished.
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