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+*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 75441 ***
+
+
+
+
+
+                        Terror out of the Past
+
+                         By Raymond Z. Gallun
+
+             Perry Wilcox descends into the earth to solve
+           the secret of an incredibly ancient civilization.
+
+           [Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
+                      Amazing Stories March 1940.
+         Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
+         the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
+
+
+
+
+"Rod!" Perry Wilcox shouted above the sound of bracewires singing in
+the slipstream: "In the name of Mathuselah! Look! there!"
+
+Doctor Roderick Murgatroyd's shrewd old eyes probed swiftly along
+the line of Perry's pointing arm. For a moment he couldn't get it at
+all--couldn't see what hundreds of airmen, flying over this place
+during the past three or four decades, had missed entirely. But then,
+as Perry circled the plane around in a steep bank, it came over the old
+adventurer-scientist gradually.
+
+There was a humping configuration of those hills down there--faint in
+outline as an old footprint in a rainwashed garden. It couldn't have
+been noticed from the ground in a million years, and even from this
+altitude it was as vague in outline as the memory of a dream.
+
+The hills below looked like a gigantic Indian Mound, a mile in extent,
+and perfectly though dimly triangular. Regularly placed along its
+straight sides, were humps--foggy nodules--suggesting somehow the ruins
+of massive turrets, lying buried beneath layer on layer of repeated
+glacial silt.
+
+Rod Murgatroyd began to cuss, half to relieve his feelings and half as
+though to drive away the possibility that he and Perry were mistaken.
+
+"By the nine gods!" he roared back through the propstream. "It's a
+fortress, Perry! You can almost see the battlements! But who in the
+name of the Cyclops could have built it? And when? And what in heck are
+we gonna do about it, Perry?..." Murgatroyd's voice was almost a whine
+of eagerness at the end.
+
+Perry Wilcox was grinning broadly. "Do?" he returned, knowing that
+Rod had already passed the obvious answer and was planning far ahead.
+"What are you asking me that for? It ain't much of a riddle, is it?" He
+swung the plane into the wind, and began the glide toward Schroeder's
+hayfield.
+
+Forty-eight hours afterwards, behind a high board fence, erected for
+secrecy--that is, as much secrecy as they could hope to achieve in
+surroundings that knew them well--the small crew they had assembled was
+busy. A heavy diesel motor pounded steadily, driving a rotary drill
+that was digging deep into the side of a low knoll.
+
+For weeks the work went on. Five separate shafts were sunk into the
+ground, the first four of them reaching down to the solid stratum of
+fire rock, below the lowest and oldest fossil levels. From the depths
+of those first four shafts the drill brought up pieces of stone, some
+of which had angular corners, like carven blocks. And there were great
+lumps of rust too, that might have been reenforcing bars of steel.
+Thus the mystery deepened, taking on qualities of nervous unrest and
+expectancy.
+
+And then, far down in the fifth shaft, the spinning diamond points of
+the drill snarled into a new medium. An hour later, in the summer dusk,
+Roderick Murgatroyd stood shifting a few ounces of muck, brought up
+from the excavation, back and forth between his palms. Most of it was
+grey volcanic stuff, but mingled with it were long shreds of metal,
+scored out by the drillpoints. The metal was as soft and pliable as
+lead, but it possessed a very considerable tensile strength. Tests
+had already proved that it was lead, alloyed with certain rare-earth
+elements, probably to increase its toughness, and to render it immune
+to the ravages of time.
+
+"It's true, Perry," Murgatroyd said very quietly to the younger man
+beside him. "Truer than we could have quite understood before. Metal
+down there shows that. A carefully prepared alloy, such as only a very
+well developed metallurgical science could have produced. A layer, or a
+shell. Or maybe just a block. We don't know yet.
+
+"Yes, we're on the right trail, Perry, even if it does look like
+a wild trail! Only yesterday the drill brought up fossils of an
+_undisturbed_ stratum belonging to the Jurassic Period, the Age
+of Reptiles many millions of years ago! That means, Perry--" and the
+old Scotch-American's voice was still more vibrant and tense--"that
+means that this lead alloy was made and put into place before--long
+before--the time of the dinosaurs. In fact, if we are to judge from
+the stratum immediately surrounding the metal, it is contemporary with
+the Carboniferous Era or Coal Period. That's the point, Perry. There
+weren't any men on this planet at that time. And there weren't going to
+be any men for ages and ages. At least not Earth men...."
+
+Perry Wilcox nodded, controlling his own taut nerves. They were right
+at the edge of a staggering discovery, he was sure. It might break any
+minute, now, or any hour. The drill machinery still vibrated, boring
+into that mass of metal deep in the ground. The pumps, sucking seepage
+water out of the excavation, still throbbed. The two men's ears were
+tuned to the sound of the machinery. Any shift or change in the regular
+beat of the drill would have a story to tell. Thus they waited, as
+night began to fall, slowly but surely.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+They hadn't heard the soft purr of an expensive automobile on the
+roadway beyond the fence, at the foot of the slope. But now the sounds
+of a brief, angry argument at the gate, some hundred yards away, drew
+their startled, nervous attention. With so much that was unknown and
+unhintable pending, this was hardly the time to receive visitors of any
+kind, certainly not hostile visitors with ideas of their own.
+
+Uneasily, Wilcox and Murgatroyd turned to face a group of people
+hurrying toward them across the intervening area of the fenced
+enclosure. One was a trusted workman, left to guard the gate. But the
+others--there were four men and a girl--had been able to overrule the
+guard's refusal to admit them.
+
+Of the four men, three were burly, massive specimens with the scars of
+many combats marking their coarse features. The fourth was slender and
+bent, maybe fifty. His head was entirely bald, his cheeks had withered
+lines in them, and his squinted piggish eyes held a look of secretive,
+hungry searching.
+
+Murgatroyd and Wilcox had no trouble recognizing this uninvited guest,
+who clearly was the master mind of the intruding group. All the world
+knew Lyman Kerwin, whose colossal fortune had thrust dominance-seeking
+tentacles into most of the key industries of America. Path of Progress,
+Rod's and Perry's outfit, had tangled with him once. They'd taken
+newsreel pictures of the collapse of one of the gigantic but poorly
+constructed power and irrigation dams which he had built in one of
+the western states. Hundreds of people had been killed, and thousands
+had been rendered homeless by a disaster traceable to materials and
+workmanship far less costly than specified. Only Kerwin's money,
+fixing a corrupt court, had enabled him to escape the consequences of
+criminal misrepresentation.
+
+Seeing Kerwin, and the inquiring speculative glances he cast about the
+enclosure, Doctor Murgatroyd's pointed red face suddenly darkened with
+fury, chagrin, and something like a nameless, nervous panic.
+
+"Thunder of Jupiter!" he whispered hoarsely. "That polecat would have
+to barge in now--now, of all times! We might have known it, Perry! But
+you just wait till I sail into him! The dirty--"
+
+Perry silenced the old scientist with a poke in the ribs. "You keep
+still," he ordered. "Just make believe you're bossing the drill crew."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The young man advanced slowly a few steps toward the intruders. He
+didn't grin or scowl. He just kept his face straight, ready to meet
+Kerwin in whatever manner the latter might ask for by his actions or
+words. Perry did notice the girl in the party, though--briefly. She
+was walking beside Kerwin. Chestnut curls peeped from beneath an odd
+little hat. There was a sprinkling of freckles across her tanned,
+earnest face. Perry knew her slightly. She was Lyssa Arthurs, better
+known as Troubles, reporter for a paper in the neighboring town of
+Brenton. Cute, plucky kid, but she seemed a little self-conscious now.
+And evidently she had strange tastes in company. Perry dismissed her
+presence with a curt nod that could hardly have been called a greeting.
+
+When he spoke, Kerwin didn't allow a lot of room for doubt as to his
+attitude, in spite of the veiled terms he used.
+
+"Hello, Wilcox!" he hailed volubly in a rich voice that was in sharp
+contrast with his cadaverous appearance. "I thought I'd call, since
+you and the Professor are always doing such interesting things. What's
+up? Boring for oil or something?"
+
+Perry kept silent, waiting for Kerwin to talk a little more.
+
+"You might as well answer my question, Wilcox," the financier urged.
+"I'll find out anyway, you know."
+
+"Maybe they're diggin' a road down to China, Chief," one of Kerwin's
+bodyguards offered with dry and slightly sinister humor. "Or a nice,
+deep hole to bury themselves in."
+
+Before Perry could speak there was an interruption. The sound of the
+drill nearby, busy in the dusk, changed abruptly. There was a grating,
+hollow noise from far underground. Then the whine of machinery racing
+without resistance. Out of the pipe which ejected the muck and chipped
+stone and metal shreds brought up from the drilling, there came a
+gurgling puff, as of air trapped in a subterranean cavern, and under
+slightly higher pressure than that of the surface, being suddenly
+released from confinement.
+
+Workmen leaped to throw out the clutch of the big diesel. Old Rod
+Murgatroyd began to swear excitedly, for it was clear what had
+happened. The drill had broken through the metal at last. It had
+reached a hollow space down there. A room, a chamber, perhaps, which
+the shell of lead alloy was meant to protect.
+
+Perry Wilcox felt his pulses racing wildly. The presence of Kerwin
+could not spoil his sense of victory. In the evening air around him
+there was suddenly a faint, musty odor, like that of an old cellar, but
+with a distinctive quality all its own.
+
+Perry saw the workmen step back from the machinery, as if they didn't
+know quite what to do or say. And he could tell, too, that the
+sudden cessation of movement, and that noisome smell, indescribably
+suggestive of a time that was dead for incredible eons, had had its
+effect on Lyman Kerwin. Kerwin's lips dangled loosely, and his eyes had
+lost a lot of their squint. His face was sweaty, and paler than usual.
+
+"You asked what was up, Kerwin," Perry growled at last. "Well, so
+far we've tried to keep our work here dark so we could get the
+first investigations completed without interference. But I guess
+there's no use to stall. You said you'd find out anyway, and you're
+right--whatever good that'll do you. I think everybody'll get the story
+in a few days, or even hours. I suppose somebody tipped you off about
+what we were doing--somebody who lives around here." Perry grinned
+crookedly at the girl, Lyssa Arthurs, as he made this half accusation.
+
+"But it doesn't matter," he went on. "You saw what just happened,
+Kerwin. We've evidently reached something with the drill. I don't know
+what--yet. But it's terribly old, Kerwin. And get this--there's metal
+down there--a perfectly balanced alloy as old as the Carboniferous
+fossils! Yes, it's pretty big, Kerwin! And liable to be--dangerous!
+Why, hell, even that cellar stench that came up from down there might
+actually be poisonous! It might contain microscopic spores that, in
+contact with human lungs, could grow and kill. Spores from the past,
+Kerwin. Sealed up and kept alive through the ages. Of course it's a
+thin possibility, but who can say? Do you still want to hang around,
+Kerwin?"
+
+The latter's retreat was just a trifle too quick for good poise, and
+the sudden fury of his expression wasn't good form either.
+
+"Rot, Wilcox!" he half stammered and half roared as he backed away.
+"You're talking rot!"
+
+Perry could almost feel sorry for him at that moment. Full of
+hypochondriac fear, inspired by nothing but the slenderest of chances,
+Kerwin was trying to mask his cowardice by a show of scorn.
+
+But Perry could feel sorrier for Lyssa Arthurs. Troubles, she was
+called. And she looked regular, all right.... But why was she hanging
+around with Kerwin?
+
+Now Kerwin made a nervous, jerking sign to his henchmen.
+
+"Come on, boys," he said. "We might as well leave these fools to their
+silly grubbing."
+
+Even the three pug-uglies looked a bit sheepish at the hasty departure
+their boss led them into.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Workmen were grinning and chuckling as Perry turned about, and old Rod
+Murgatroyd's red face was alight with amusement and satisfaction.
+
+"You sure told that ninny where to dump himself, pal," he complimented,
+his blue eyes seeming to twinkle even in the dusk.
+
+Perry's answering smile was brief. He glanced toward the fence, from
+beyond which came the sounds of Kerwin's car speeding away along the
+concrete road.
+
+"Only," Murgatroyd added, sobering, "I don't think we're through with
+our playmate yet, Perry. You've got him doubly sore at us now, for
+making him ridiculous. And he's not so scared that he won't do his
+damnedest to get even--if nothing else. And--glory but it would be
+tough to have him mixing in with something really colossal, wouldn't
+it? What we've got here could be good for all humanity--it could be
+neutral, or it could be bad. We don't know. But good or bad, depend on
+Kerwin to make it the latter, if he gets the chance!"
+
+Perry shrugged ruefully. "Yeah," he said. "That means we've got to
+work quick, Rod. One of us has got to go down there into the bore on
+a cable--find out just what we're up against in that quarter. Then
+there'll still be time to see if we can get digging options on the
+surrounding country--if it turns out to be advisable. Kerwin can't very
+well beat us to that, anyway. Now who'll it be that goes down there
+first?"
+
+Perry Wilcox drew a nickel from his pocket. He flipped it dexterously
+into the air, caught it and slapped it onto the back of his other hand.
+
+"Buffalo!" old Rod called.
+
+Perry raised his palm to reveal a shiny Indian head. "I win," he
+remarked, grinning.
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER II
+
+                         Mystery Below Ground
+
+
+Lights were snapped on in the gathering darkness. Long lengths of
+drill-shaft were pulled out of the boring, whose dark maw hid the
+unknown.
+
+Perry put on a coverall garment of rubberized silk. Over his face he
+fitted an oxygen mask, and to his shoulders he attached several oxygen
+bottles. The air blow, after so many countless ages of stagnation,
+would probably be unbreathable. And though Perry had meant merely to
+unnerve Kerwin when he had mentioned the possibility of some kind of
+contamination, one could not quite be sure. It was best to have one's
+body encased in a sealed garment.
+
+When he had completed his preparations, there was even a small toolkit
+at his hip. Attached to an elbow there was a powerful electric lamp,
+fitted with a long cord by means of which it could draw power from the
+generator here on the surface. And there was a small phone incorporated
+into his headgear. With the phone, like a subsea diver, he could
+maintain communication with Rod and the rest of the crew here above
+ground. And of course he had his motion picture camera--strapped across
+his chest.
+
+With a stout steel cable fastened under his armpits, Perry clambered
+over the edge of the boring, and was lowered below. The trip
+down--nearly three hundred feet--was uneventful. The stillness in the
+narrow shaft, scarcely wider than his shoulders, deepened with the
+depth of his descent. There was only the scraping of his kit against
+the rough walls, and the sleepy trickle of seepage water.
+
+He reached the punctured metal barrier at last, and passed through it.
+Two feet thick, the shell was. A moment later his feet touched a solid
+floor, wet with the water that had dribbled down through the opening.
+
+"I'm here, Rod," Perry called into the phone. "At the bottom."
+
+It was a moment before the older man answered, and in this interval
+Perry heard disquieting sounds from the phones over his ears--sounds
+from the surface, which seemed so infinitely far away to him now.
+Automobile motors racing. Voices in much larger numbers than those of
+the small drill crew. And to Perry Wilcox came a conviction of pending
+trouble.
+
+Then Murgatroyd spoke: "We've got company up here, Perry," he said, a
+note of anxiety in his tone. "A lot of curious people from Brenton.
+Sight-seers rushing to a fire, so to speak. Kerwin couldn't think of
+anything dirtier to do to gum up the works for us, so he spread the
+news around that something was up out here. Naturally I've got a whole
+crowd on my hands. We're trying to keep 'em outside the fence. Of
+course they ought to be harmless enough, really; but damn it, I wish
+they'd go someplace else! What do you see down there?"
+
+Perry had his electric lamp blazing at full now. On his chest, his
+camera, driven by a little spring motor, was turning. And he was
+staring about him intently, to grasp the character of his surroundings.
+He began to talk--to describe what he saw and felt.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+"I'm in a passage, Rod," he said. "It slants down. Its alloy walls
+are all bent and crumpled. It must have been the movement of the
+ground through the ages that did that. Gosh, Rod, but you can feel the
+length of eternity here! It's written in these tunnel walls, Rod. The
+way they're bent and rebent. I can understand now why they were made
+of something tough and pliable, like this lead alloy. It's twisted
+everywhere, but unbroken. They--whoever built this place--must have
+known pretty well what they were doing--whatever their purpose was...."
+
+Perry advanced slowly down the slope of the tunnel, cautiously drawing
+his descent cable and his telephone and electric cords after him.
+
+He reached a room of heroic dimensions, walled with the same grey alloy
+as the tunnel. The Stygian gloom that obscured it parted before the
+intense white path of his lamp.
+
+There were tall metal boxes, like packing cases for heavy machinery,
+arranged in rows on the buckled and humped pavement of the
+chamber--metal boxes, each with a closed and perhaps hermetically
+sealed door. And near the farther wall was a machine--an engine or
+something--that displayed a gigantic, dusty fly-wheel. The walls,
+at a head-high level, were covered with something crystalline, like
+glass; though where it had bent it had bent like metal--not shattering
+as a brittle substance would have done. Behind those crystal panes
+were compartments, housing queer, complicated devices. They looked
+a little like astronomical or surveying instruments, Perry thought.
+Were they perhaps instruments for the navigation of interplanetary or
+interstellar space?
+
+Seeing charts traced on the walls above the compartments that protected
+this array of apparatus--charts dotted with winking, diamond-bright
+bits of glass, which must represent scattered suns of the void--he
+was half sure that his guess was right. The charts were marked with
+countless interlocking lines and circles, which might be the geometric
+equivalent of latitude and longitude, applied not to the navigation
+of the ocean, but to the limitless, three-dimensional reaches of the
+cosmos.
+
+This much Perry Wilcox was able to note, before his eager inspection
+was interrupted. In the heavy stillness there was a rustling whisper,
+which penetrated easily the thin, rubberized fabric of his hoodlike
+mask. The sound swiftly built itself up into a regular, soft rhythm.
+Perry spoke a few warning words about this development into his phone,
+and described briefly the room he was in. Meanwhile he stared ahead,
+ready in every taut nerve and muscle to leap out of danger, yet eager
+to see what it was that caused the disturbance.
+
+His lamp beam focused on the engine near the opposite wall. Its
+fly-wheel was turning, maybe after half a billion years of motionless
+waiting in this sealed vault. But why? How?
+
+Perry bounced back a step, icy fingers of dread tickling his flesh. "On
+your marks up there, Rod," he said tensely into his phone. "I can't
+tell what kind of a show it is I've started; but you may have to yank
+me up in a hurry!"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The engine was whizzing now, ancient dust spraying from its fly-wheel.
+For a few seconds there were no more developments, except that Perry
+noticed the decorative frieze around the high, shadowy ceiling.
+Human faces carved in the metal. They smiled down on the young man
+mysteriously.
+
+Then there was a soft clank in the far distance, muffled apparently
+by the turn of many passages, and echoed back and forth by crumpled,
+vaulted ceilings and walls. The sound might have been that of a door
+opening, or the rattling of chains. Perry was beginning to feel very
+much like beating a hasty retreat; but he waited a trifle longer.
+
+There came, then, a ponderous, soft thudding, growing nearer. It wasn't
+till the impression of the sound clicked into a groove in his mind,
+establishing itself as identical with the regular thud-thud of great,
+running, elastic-shod feet, entirely inhuman in their note, that he
+concluded that discretion was the better part of valor.
+
+He had farther to return than he realized. And his electric and
+telephone cords, his hoist cable, hampered him.
+
+"Draw in the slack of my rig," he shouted into his phone. "And for
+Pete's sake, if you love me, set the hoist winch going when I tell you!"
+
+He got beneath the bore that penetrated the tunnel roof okay. But the
+thudding was catching up on him fast. "Up!" he yelled. "Quick!"
+
+It seemed a century before he felt the reassuring tug of the cable
+under his arms. He had a chance to look back once into the Stygian
+darkness that concealed a reawakening and incredible ancientness. There
+a little red light wavered and hurtled nearer.
+
+Perry's feet left the metal pavement. He heard a hiss, like escaping
+steam, just as he was drawn up into the narrow bore. Something clanked
+and scraped beneath him, like claws raking at his retreat. And the
+hissing continued.
+
+He thought he could relax then, a little. But as he was pulled farther
+up the bore he felt heat burning through his rubberized silk coverall.
+It was just a harmless warmth at first, but it increased to a burning
+sensation about his legs. It made him dizzy and sick, and clouded his
+brain.
+
+He heard Rod Murgatroyd yelling at him through the phone: "What's the
+matter, Perry? What's up?" And behind the voice of his friend there
+was the murmur of many other voices. The sightseers from Brenton. They
+didn't have any business being there; but if anything happened--if they
+got hurt--it was his and Rod's fault. Even though Kerwin, or someone
+under Kerwin's orders, had tipped them off for mere malice.
+
+"Back!" Perry yelled. "Order everybody back! When you pull me up, Rod,
+don't touch me without gloves! And breathe cautiously. Gas, I think.
+Some kind of corrosive gas...."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+The rest, for a while, was like a bad dream to Wilcox. He became aware
+of stars overhead, and of wind. He was up in the open air once more.
+Nearby, Herkett, one of the drill crew, was swearing at the inquisitive
+onlookers, trying to send them on their way. Some were retreating.
+Others, held by a kind of fascination, still crowded forward against
+the fence, and met Herkett's blasphemous pleas with boos, or ignored
+them with a kind of self-conscious indifference.
+
+Perry was sick with that intense, burning pain in his right leg.
+To keep his senses was a struggle. He heard noises from within the
+Earth--like ragged drumbeats that made the ground shake. Something
+unknown, crescendoing on to a preplanned purpose. Hands touched
+him--Rod's hands, covered with thick gloves. Car headlights flared all
+around in the night, mingling confusingly with the chaos of voices.
+Perry's rubber-silk outer garment was crumbling away from him like
+rotten rags. It had been eaten by a virulently active gaseous chemical,
+all right. Like combustion, the activity had evolved heat. He was still
+alive only because he was wearing an oxygen mask.
+
+He tried to stand, clinging to Rod's shoulders; but the burnt leg,
+which might still put him in danger of death by an unknown chemical
+poison, would not bear his weight. He sank down to one knee while Rod
+tore the remnants of rotted rubber and cloth from his leg, and smeared
+an unguent on the ragged, blistered injury.
+
+"I'll get him to a doctor," someone was saying from very close by. "You
+can't tell. That's apt to be very dangerous. A physician will know
+better what to do."
+
+It wasn't till then that Perry saw who it was that was holding the
+first aid kit. Lyssa Arthurs, the girl who had been with Kerwin and
+his boys. But she'd come back, somehow. Looking up into the confusing
+medley of light and shadow, Perry saw her curly chestnut hair blowing
+in the wind. She looked a little bedraggled, and her lips were pursed
+very tight.
+
+"Okay!" old Rod snapped, for this moment might involve the question
+of life and death for his friend, and there was no time to question
+the connections of this girl, who had been helpful. "Come on, you!" he
+added, grasping Perry's arm. "You're out of action for a while!"
+
+Perry Wilcox was too dazed to think of all the reasons why he didn't
+want to be taken away from the scene of action now, and why he
+didn't want to go with anyone associated with Lyman Kerwin. So his
+stubborn protests were mostly those of a hard man of action, clinging
+obstinately to the habit of wanting to be where things were happening.
+
+"Can't leave, Rod!" he grumbled like a great obstinate, drunken child.
+"Everybody's in danger of--God knows what. Gotta stay with you,
+Rod...." His words were muffled by his mask.
+
+A moment Murgatroyd hesitated, then his balled fist shot out and caught
+Perry on the chin with stunning force.
+
+What he'd seen of Troubles Arthurs in the last few seconds made the
+old scientist like her a lot. But since she was tied up with Kerwin
+someway, he couldn't trust her entirely with the custody of his pal. So
+he said:
+
+"Thanks, kid. Otto, here, will go along to help."
+
+Almost as an afterthought, Rod unsnapped the motion picture camera from
+Perry's chest. Its record of a mystery would be safer in his keeping.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Otto, one of the drill crew, a great, blond bear of a man, picked Perry
+up and followed the girl through the throng to her car. In a moment it
+was speeding away toward Brenton.
+
+But it hadn't gone far before the sounds of a fresh disturbance issued
+from the enclosure it had recently quitted. To the thudding from
+beneath the Earth, was added a droning note, faint but infinitely
+far-reaching. It was like the drone of a solitary electric generator
+in a deserted powerhouse at night. And there was a puffing noise from
+the direction of the enclosure. Voices waxed to screams. First of plain
+terror; then some of them changed to yelps of agony.
+
+The reviving Perry half rose in the back seat of the speeding car. Then
+Otto, with all the good intentions in the world followed Murgatroyd's
+original example, hit Perry on the chin, and told the frightened girl
+up ahead to drive faster.
+
+Meanwhile, safe in a hotel room in Brenton, a man sat at a writing
+table and waited. Lyman Kerwin had just received a phone call. One
+couldn't tell, yet, what was happening. But Kerwin's mind was quick
+and cold and ruthless. And somewhere in all this he saw a lot to his
+advantage--if he played his cards right.
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER III
+
+                        A War Against Machines
+
+
+It was many hours later before the doctors at the Brenton hospital
+knew that Wilcox was out of danger. The gas that had burnt him was a
+little like mustard gas in its action, though more virulent; and it had
+narcotic properties that could function through a burn. With the danger
+from poison past, the injury was small.
+
+But it was still more hours before Wilcox came out of the daze that
+had slipped over him. The immediate cause of his awakening from heavy
+slumber, was the roar of a squadron of airplanes, passing over the
+hospital roof.
+
+He sat up dizzily. In the distance he could hear a muted mutter and
+clank. Then a series of heavy explosions. He looked about, noticing
+only subconsciously that he was in a hospital ward. His gaze settled
+immediately on the nearest window. Weakly he climbed out of bed and
+limped and staggered toward it.
+
+The view extended for miles to the north, across the little city, and
+across the hills and woods and fields beyond. Everything he could see
+had the look of a place in close proximity to the no-man's-land of a
+great war. Lorries, loaded with troops, were moving in the streets.
+Tanks roared. Supply trucks, most of them pulling guns, moved in a
+ragged stream.
+
+Perry's face went haggard and drawn as he looked for the airplanes
+he had heard. Far up, he saw three. Huge bombers in the clear air.
+Clusters of black specks trailed down from them--bombs released from
+the racks. And in the hills beneath there were geysers of flying earth,
+followed by dull concussions.
+
+Then unseen, hurtling vengeance touched each of the planes in
+succession. From somewhere in the sylvan terrain beneath, there were
+three faint pops. A second later, one of the bombers dissolved into a
+silvery cloud--duralumin and steel. It was the same with the other two
+planes. They fell apart as though all the cohesive force of the metals
+from which they were made was suddenly disrupted. The men aboard them
+hadn't a chance.
+
+Perry Wilcox gulped painfully as his eyes searched the wooded hills,
+trying to orient things so that he could tell just where Murgatroyd's
+and his fenced enclosure had been. He couldn't see the fence. It was
+too far off and was hidden by the trees. But he did see a ragged line
+of peculiar upjutting earthworks. It appeared to follow the contour of
+the mounted mystery that he had first observed from the air. Shells
+from man-made cannon splashed against it.
+
+Just for a moment a gleaming colossus reared its hunched bulk behind
+the barrier. It glistened in the late afternoon sunshine as it seemed
+to take a look about; then like a lizard retreating into its hole, it
+slid back, from view. But behind it there were sounds like the working
+of great forges. Columns of smoke puffed up, dyed with the red of
+molten metal.
+
+His attention was attracted to something else. Beyond the partly
+raised window, and across the street, he could hear a radio in one of
+the houses there. He bent forward tautly, straining his ears to listen.
+The voice was unpleasantly familiar:
+
+"The latest newsflashes give us little hope. Our attacking forces
+are being beaten back, or destroyed. But we have great resources. We
+must be brave. The enemy is a strange one. We must amass more men,
+conscript money for war materials. Billions of dollars. That is our
+hope, our one chance. We must have a strong central government. That
+means the absolute leadership of one man. Obedience must be the key. My
+whole resources are at the disposal of the nation. We will triumph! We
+must! The Murgatroyd-Wilcox Horror will thus be destroyed. Be strong,
+friends. Be strong. That is all for now...."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Before the brief, artfully worded speech was half delivered, Perry
+Wilcox knew a good deal of what was spoken between its treacherous
+lines. The rich, semi-hysterical voice, seemingly overflowing with holy
+patriotism, had been unmistakable. Lyman Kerwin. But before Perry had
+time quite to digest this knowledge, someone called from behind him:
+
+"Hey, fella, you're supposed to be in bed!"
+
+Perry swung about, startled, forgetful of his injured leg. He
+confronted cool dark eyes with a quiet, half smiling challenge in them.
+It was Lyssa Arthurs again. Perry was glad to see her for a second,
+then he remembered.
+
+"Well, what do you want?" he blurted sullenly.
+
+"I've signed up for emergency work, and I was put in charge of this
+ward," she responded frankly, making a plain effort to avoid a painful
+clash of personalities.
+
+But Wilcox was in no mood to take the hint. "Yeah?" he grunted. "Well,
+I seem to remember that it was you who brought me here to the hospital.
+For that, thanks! Otherwise, why don't you go hang around Kerwin some
+more? He's ambitious and capable! He can do things for an up and
+coming newspaper woman like you! Why I just heard him make the nicest,
+smuggest little speech you ever could imagine--over the radio. All
+about conscripting more money and men, and putting the country under
+the absolute control of one leader--himself, of course--to fight what
+he calls the Murgatroyd-Wilcox Horror. But I can see through him as
+though he was glass! He controls most of the munitions plants on the
+continent. The money'll go to him!
+
+"But that's penny-pickings! He talks about absolute obedience. Sure!
+With himself as boss! Kerwin talks smooth. There's only one thing I
+can't understand about him. He's as yellow as a hyena. How he can find
+the nerve to talk fight now, is more than I can see!"
+
+The girl regarded Perry coolly, after he had finished. "I'll be kinder
+than you've been to me, Mr. Wilcox," she said at last. "It's the
+privilege of all sincere science to explore the unknown. You and Mr.
+Murgatroyd did just that when you dug into those hills. You had no idea
+what would happen. But the result _is_ your responsibility. As for
+my being with Kerwin--it's not your business, of course, but I may not
+have enjoyed that myself. It happens he owns most of the _Brenton
+Herald_, for which I work. He asked me to come along with him to
+visit the site of your excavations, and I couldn't very well refuse.
+It happens too, that I didn't tell him that you were digging there, in
+case you're accusing me of that. But there are plenty of sources from
+which he could have gotten information to arouse his curiosity. You
+are well known, and people are curious. But of course all this petty
+explanation of mine can't mean much now."
+
+Perry bit his lip, feeling briefly sorry that he'd openly connected
+Lyssa Arthurs with the Kerwin outfit. But he was by no means ready to
+trust her either.
+
+The rumble of shells, exploding miles off, beat into his mind. There
+was a mysterious hiss, followed by the screams of dying men. Perry
+winced. It was logical of course that soldiers should be sent to attack
+whatever it was out there; but he was sure that Kerwin must have some
+special knowledge about the enigma up his sleeve, or else he'd never
+have the guts to be delivering radio lectures that didn't say anything
+about running away.
+
+"I don't know enough!" he groaned aloud. "I was put out of action too
+quick to see just what took place at the excavation. I can't judge--"
+
+Suddenly he grasped the girl by the shoulders. "Where's Murgatroyd?" he
+grated. "Does anybody know?"
+
+Troubles Arthurs stayed cool, in spite of his fury. "Why yes," she
+said. "He's here." She nodded toward a hospital bed against the wall.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Perry staggered toward the inert form which lay there. Rod, his head
+swathed in bandages, was completely unrecognizable. His features were
+covered.
+
+"Gas, same as hit me?" Wilcox asked the girl.
+
+"No," she whispered. "Some kind of beam of concentrated heat waves.
+It's his eyes, mostly."
+
+"How long was he out there?" Perry questioned. "What I mean is, how
+long did he stay in action before he got hurt?"
+
+"About two hours, I think," the girl responded. "He helped with the
+first civilian wounded, managing to stay clear of the gas himself.
+There was an explosion afterward. And out of the hole blown in the
+ground the machines--they're like strange robots--began to emerge. That
+was at ten o'clock the night before last. Mr. Murgatroyd was brought in
+at eleven o'clock, so he must have been active for half an hour after
+the explosion."
+
+Perry had heard enough. He bent over the bed of his friend and touched
+his shoulder. "Hey, Rod!" he called. "Hey, this is Perry! Wake up, you
+old son-of-a-gun!" Perry's vision was misted.
+
+Murgatroyd groaned and stirred. When he spoke, however, he seemed
+lucid, his mind clearing after the long siege of unconsciousness,
+caused by his head injury. "Hello, fella," he muttered, turning his
+face toward the sound of Perry's voice as though trying to peer through
+the bandages that covered his damaged eyes.
+
+"Rod," the young man whispered. "I want you to concentrate--try to
+remember. We've got a big job that's our personal concern. But it's
+more than that. It's a danger concerning the whole country--maybe
+the whole world. Just what kind of an enemy is out there, Rod? Those
+robots. What are they? Is anybody controlling them? Or do they think
+for themselves? Do you know anything about them, Rod? Anything at all?"
+
+The old Scotch-American's lips moved, almost hidden in the swathing of
+cloth. "I guess it should--be all right," he said at last. "I guess
+it's kind of--funny. Machines--think? Some might, but these--don't.
+They can do things--perfectly. Like a machine that rifles a gun barrel
+or predicts the tides. They're made that way. But these robots are just
+refined machines--acting almost human, sure! They'd almost fool you.
+
+"They see, they hear--in a way. They come toward you, aiming and firing
+explosive slugs, or sending out beams of concentrated heat. But we
+stopped a few of those robots with shells. Just adding-machine stuff
+inside, Perry. Cams and rods and wires, like our inventors would build,
+only a lot more wonderful and complicated. No soul could be in that,
+Perry. No real consciousness. No ambition....
+
+"Professor Vince had the wrecks hauled off--copped them for
+examination. I guess he knows a lot now, Perry. He tried to talk me
+into giving him your camera, with the pictures you took down in the
+bore, too, Perry. But I sent the camera to the rear with one of our
+men....
+
+"As for the robots, they may be under some kind of centralized radio
+control, of course. But even that can't be--real brains. It hasn't
+the judgment. Any little trick, like stepping out of the path of an
+automaton chasing you, and staying perfectly still, fools 'em. They go
+right on past you. And you can pull the same stunt again and again. But
+they're still hellish."
+
+Old Rod paused, panting with the effort of his long explanation. Then
+he went on: "So that means--there's nobody at the helm, Perry. The
+whole business just goes on by itself. And it _is_ pretty awe
+inspiring and wonderful at that--so damned wonderful you'd want to
+cheer, if it wasn't so deadly--when a bunch of men makes an attack
+against it. The thing to do is not to attack, anyway for a few days.
+We'd learn more, then. Those robots are guardians of some kind, Perry.
+It's a hunch of mine...."
+
+Suddenly the old man half rose in the bed, as if the expressing of his
+own thoughts had startled him. "That's the whole crazy irony of the
+situation, Perry!" he cried. "Men out there, dying--and on the other
+side--potential progress, inspiration, miracles! The key to a new era!
+We've got to do something--Perry--now!"
+
+For a second Roderick Murgatroyd looked like a magnificent, blinded
+seer. Then he dropped back onto the bed, fainting into a coma of
+fatigue. Perry touched the old man's hand with a brief pressure of
+comradeship.
+
+But at the same moment Wilcox was thinking fast to correlate his
+new information. Rod had spoken of Professor Vince. Vince, a shy,
+moon-faced little man, was a noted professor of physics at Kerwin
+University. Vince, then, was one of Lyman Kerwin's stooges. What Vince
+learned from examining the wrecked automatons, Kerwin would promptly
+find out. Perry was sure he understood the setup at last.
+
+_Kerwin knew, somehow, that what he called the Murgatroyd-Wilcox
+Horror was of little danger to himself, if he kept out of the battle
+zone! He was only using it as a means to his own ends. Power. Complete
+control of the nation. Free access to the inventions this marvelous
+archeological discovery might reveal!_
+
+It was all too clear.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Instantly Perry's plan was formulated. His injury was really
+superficial, now that the effect of the poison was gone. Exertion
+would work the stiffness out of his leg. But he glanced in frustrated
+exasperation at the pajamas he was wearing. A second later he was
+tugging at the door of the closet in the corner of the ward.
+
+"Doggone! Where's my rig?" he was grumbling, as he clawed at the piled
+contents of the closet--mostly clothing of the wounded that had not
+been damaged by corrosive gas or heat.
+
+He found his oxygen mask and tanks at last. Quite indiscriminately he
+seized a shirt and a pair of trousers, and yanked them on over his
+pajamas. Shoes were similarly selected and donned. Then he hurried
+toward the door of the room.
+
+Lyssa Arthurs barred his way here, her lips firm though smiling. Her
+dark eyes had a roguish glint that admired and challenged. She looked
+like a courageous small boy standing up for his rights, that way, Perry
+thought with a strange pang.
+
+"I'm responsible for the patients in this ward," she said pertly.
+"Where do you think _you're_ going, Mister?"
+
+Perry shoved her unceremoniously aside. "Places," he grunted almost
+good-humoredly. "You said before that I had responsibilities."
+
+He rushed down the hall. In thirty seconds he was out in the street,
+with the bustle of behind-the-lines activity around him. He dodged
+ahead of trucks and tanks on his way to the river.
+
+Once, from a radio in a house he passed, he heard the rich, high voice
+of Lyman Kerwin, exhorting, commanding, praising himself in subtle
+terms, using fear as a means to power:
+
+"All my resources are at the disposal of the nation to combat the
+Murgatroyd-Wilcox Horror. The response has been good to our appeal for
+money. But it must be better. Better! We are pitted against something
+incredible--something that possesses many unknown weapons. The women
+and children of America must be protected...."
+
+Perry Wilcox growled. And almost simultaneously a youth hurled a rock
+at him, shouting: "There he is! There's Wilcox, one of the two mugs who
+started all the trouble!"
+
+A gang was after Perry then, pelting stones; and he knew that Kerwin's
+propaganda had already achieved a very considerable success.
+
+But he didn't stop to argue. He just ran on, limping a little. He
+reached the powerhouse dam. There he paused briefly to don his oxygen
+mask and tanks. Then he leaped into the swirling water, and sank into
+its concealing depths. He didn't try really to swim. He made only a few
+strokes to keep himself righted, and safely beneath the surface. The
+current was swift, and it flowed in the proper direction. He had air to
+breathe. There was nothing much to do but wait.
+
+Dusk began to settle. Perry heard guns on the banks of the stream, and
+shouts and cries, as he drifted invisible through the human battle
+lines. Presently, looking through the goggles of his air-tight oxygen
+mask, he saw light around him, then darkness, then light again. It was
+the regular play of a great searchbeam from up there on the hills. And
+there were noises too, now loud and near. At least he'd come this far
+without being detected.
+
+Clinging to a rock of the river bottom, he waited a little till it got
+darker. Then, still being careful to keep well beneath the surface of
+the water, he swam toward the shore.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+He came up in the reeds at the river's edge, and peered cautiously
+toward the low bluffs. He had to duck his head again, before he saw
+anything but humping, moving shapes, and part of a great, half-restored
+battlement; for the search beam, swinging majestically and regularly
+back and forth, swept blindingly toward him.
+
+But there were regular intervals between each successive blaze of
+light; and these allowed him to observe. Little, gleaming robots,
+walking like human beings on broad, elastic-shod feet, and provided
+with metal arms, were rebuilding the battlemented wall with limestone
+quarried from the hillside. They worked with perfect efficiency,
+raising blocks into place, and applying a kind of mortar with
+spatulate-ended arms. But their movements for each operation were
+always identical, betraying not intellect but standardized mechanical
+perfection.
+
+And it was the same with the other machines and weapons. A gun--it
+didn't look so very different from a familiar artillery piece, except
+for its complex breech-loading mechanism, fired intermittently, without
+any crew to operate it. Watching, Perry concluded that its sighting and
+firing apparatus must be stimulated by certain sounds, movements, and
+lights, out there where the soldiers were entrenched. For when he heard
+a shout from the rear, or saw a cannon flash, or troops advancing from
+the trenches, there was always a volley of small, screaming shells, the
+latter directed with a precise, cold accuracy, that must depend on the
+spiritless exactness of instruments. And the result was massacre.
+
+Heat beam projectors, lensed boxes in their webwork supports, seemed to
+operate under the same kinds of stimuli, turning their faint, barely
+visible spears of heatwaves toward sudden light, noise, or movement.
+Searchlights swept the sky, probably drawn by motor sounds. And if they
+located a plane, the movement of its light-enveloped form was enough to
+attract the high-angling muzzles of slender guns that fired with soft
+pops, but reduced duralumin to powder. The aiming was always perfect.
+
+When the search beam was turned away from him, Perry got cautiously out
+of the water and dashed for the nearest bush. He crouched behind it,
+as the beam swept past him like a great eye. Then higher, to another
+bush. And so he advanced. Once, because he stumbled, he was caught in
+the open; but he threw himself flat and waited, cursing his clumsiness.
+But the blazing glare passed him, and no blasting death followed.
+Perhaps camera eyes had photographed his inert form; but mechanical,
+adding-machine brains had not enough reasoning powers to recognize
+him as an interloper, as long as he did not move. Perry breathed with
+relief, and continued his intermittent climb at each brief moment of
+darkness.
+
+Near the top, however, it didn't look so simple. He was hiding in a
+clump of tall weeds, face to face with those guns--and nobody knew
+what other deadly devices. He was stumped as to how he should try to
+advance further. Make a rush? There was a pretty good chance of getting
+past the guns that way, as far as he could tell by visual inspection;
+but surely there'd be something there, in the narrow gaps between the
+guns--something to kill him, or at least detect his presence! It made
+his flesh crawl; but need gave his wits a sharper edge. He had to get
+through, somehow!
+
+He searched the line of fantastic, flame-spewing weapons avidly. A
+hundred yards away there was a small break in it, where an aerial bomb,
+dropped by one of the planes, had struck. The crater still smoked
+with the vapors of the explosive. If there was any detecting device
+there, any taut-stretched wire, or anything that would bring some death
+machine into play at his accidental touch, it would be shattered, now,
+and still unrepaired.
+
+Scrambling from bush to bush during intervals of darkness, as before,
+he got to the break in the line, and through it safely. Thus, he looked
+at last over the hilltops, and down into the area enclosed by that
+great, mounded rectangle.
+
+It was a queer, contrasting scene. Familiar farm buildings stood out in
+the weird illumination. But everywhere there were mounds of earth and
+deep pits. From some of the latter, red-lit smoke trailed up toward the
+stars. Massive things, not unlike army tanks, moved in circles, as if
+pacing beats, and there was the muffled clang of what could be buried
+factories. The old fortress had come to life once more, resurrecting
+itself from its bed of Carboniferous slumber. It was a camp, bristling
+with strange armaments and bustling with activity.
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER IV
+
+                         Into the Robot's Lair
+
+
+Perry lay prone in the high grass. He was panting and tired, and he
+felt a little sick again. He knew that whatever chances he had of
+accomplishing any good here, would be diminished if he waited. There
+were dozens of ways of getting uselessly killed. So far he hadn't
+encountered any of that corrosive gas, but hisses, and distant human
+screams from the flats along the river, told him that it was being
+used. And though he had his oxygen mask, his clothing and skin could be
+eaten away and his blood poisoned. Two bombers burst overhead, their
+powdered wreckage silvery in paths of searchlights. Perry knew he might
+even be destroyed by the weapons of his own countrymen.
+
+[Illustration: Wilcox slipped stealthily past the great robot gun.]
+
+So his gaze settled feverishly on the nearest opening in the ground. It
+wasn't far away, and its depths were lost in darkness. But twice he saw
+crawling mechanical things emerge from it. It must lead, then, toward
+the heart of the mystery he was trying to probe.
+
+At the next opportunity, he made a dash for the pit. He lost his
+balance in the loose soil at its edge, and tumbled to its bottom. But
+except for a few scratches, he was unhurt. He picked himself up and
+hurried down a steep passage. Except for lights far ahead, it was dark
+as Erebus. But he advanced as rapidly as he could, his purpose only to
+explore, and to take advantage of opportunity, if it came.
+
+Once he heard the growl of machinery, as a great crawling automaton
+came down the passage, moving in his direction. The headlamp threw him
+into full view. And there was no place to hide. But remembering what
+Rod Murgatroyd had told him about these automatons, and making use,
+too, of his own experience with them, Perry flung himself against the
+crumpled alloy wall and froze rigid as stone, his heart thumping madly.
+
+The robot stopped. Its mechanical eyes must have seen his movement.
+Perhaps the delicate maze of wheels and cams and instruments, which was
+all it had for a brain, had responded to the stimulus of his moving
+form, and was forced, by the way it was planned and built, to wait and
+search for other evidence of a hostile presence. But finding none, the
+robot whirred on. As it passed Perry, he felt the heat of its driving
+mechanism. Through a quartz glazed spyhole in its flank, he saw a
+white, blazing globe within it--perhaps a mass of material throwing off
+atomic energy.
+
+Perry's lips, sweat-daubed behind his mask, curved in a haggard smile
+at his oddly miraculous escape. He continued on his way.
+
+He had an odd, tense idea of being followed by something that was not
+quite mechanical. Behind him, in the darkness, and even above the
+confined din of the factories, he thought he heard, now and then, the
+patter and slither of footsteps.
+
+And so he hurried on, along the main tunnel, reaching at last a faintly
+lighted, circular compartment.
+
+In the center of the room a vat, a hundred and fifty feet across, was
+sunk into the floor. Its cone-shaped interior was full of a greenish
+liquid, and was covered over by an immense sealing disk of glass. There
+were grids, like colossal battery plates, in the liquid. Bus-bars,
+penetrating beneath the sealed edges of the glass disk, attached the
+grids to an apparatus standing at the vat's circular rim. The apparatus
+resembled an electrical transformer.
+
+Just for a moment Perry was able to look. Then the light in the chamber
+began to fade.
+
+There came a rattle of opening doors as the light died completely. He
+tried to hold perfectly still, as he heard the soft, heavy footfalls of
+great robot-guardians released. He should be able to fool them too, by
+keeping perfectly quiet.
+
+Now, again, he heard those lighter footfalls, that had seemed to be
+following him. They advanced to the entrance of the chamber. Instantly
+there was an answering rush of elastic-shod feet. And then a woman's
+scream!
+
+Perry was petrified for a moment of utter consternation. Then he rushed
+toward the sound of the scuffle there in the weird dark. The slithering
+of his own feet betrayed him. There was a clanking rush in the gloom.
+Cold metal claws closed firmly about his shoulders. He struggled. The
+oxygen mask was scraped from his face. But the gripping members held
+him firm at last, and he desisted in his futile efforts to escape.
+
+"Who's there?" he growled, panting.
+
+"It's me--Troubles," came the answer, half sobbing.
+
+Perry Wilcox was stunned. "How did _you_ get here?"
+
+"Same way you did," the girl choked. "When you ran away from the
+hospital, I sent an orderly to follow you, and bring you back. He
+didn't get to you; but he saw you dive off the dam with the oxygen mask
+on. When he told me, I guessed right away what you were trying to do.
+So--I got leave, found myself a mask in the operating room, and--tagged
+after you."
+
+"In the name of sense, _what for_?" Perry demanded.
+
+"For a lot of good reasons--Mister!" she said more decisively. "I used
+to be an ambitious newspaper woman, for one thing--always hunting up
+trouble and hoping for a scoop. You can believe it's that way, if you
+want to. Or you can believe that I'm the little girl that used to keep
+clippings of all the Wilcox-Murgatroyd exploits, and that you're still
+my hero--if you're conceited and crazy enough. I don't care!"
+
+It was a torrent of words that would have startled Perry Wilcox if he
+wasn't so amazed already, here in this dark hole of a place, with metal
+monsters clutching him.
+
+"Okay--Troubles," he stammered.
+
+The robots restraining him were motionless. Nearby there were hollow
+clankings. Trying to catch the significance of the sounds, Perry was
+sure that the cover of the great vat was being raised. Cold prickles
+raced over his body. What was it that would happen now?
+
+Lyssa Arthurs was talking again, out of the dark. "Perry," she said
+more gently, though just as intensely as before. "Just when I started
+out it came over the radio that Kerwin was appointed Provisional
+Director of Defense. And--and there's danger that the hospital will be
+stormed by a mob--to get Murgatroyd."
+
+Before he could answer, Perry felt his feet hoisted from the floor.
+He was swung in metal arms, then tossed free. He flew through the air.
+Warm fluid closed about him. It was like water, only it stung his
+flesh--made his nerve-ends numb.
+
+He heard the girl give a startled, involuntary cry, as she too splashed
+into the strangely energized fluid in the great vat. Automatically he
+tried to swim toward her; but the numbness was quickly creeping over
+his nerves and muscles. He could hardly move.
+
+His voice was hoarse with half paralysis when he choked: "Keep your
+courage, Troubles...."
+
+Perry's head went beneath the fluid. His brain was spinning. He thought
+he heard a click of switches being turned on. The numbness increased
+suddenly, like a jolt of electricity. But he managed to hold his
+breath. He had a curious sensation of shrinking, of being pressed
+together.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+He emerged at last from unconsciousness, knowing at least that he was
+alive. He was coughing, as though his lungs had been partly full of
+fluid. His head ached intolerably, and his heart was laboring like a
+rusty engine.
+
+He sat up on the wet surface on which he sprawled, and tried to look
+about. His vision was blurred at first, and he squinted to focus his
+eyes. He looked around a square room, one end of which was open. Its
+walls were like rough, black glass. Behind him was a dark opening,
+like a door, from which, judging from the wetness around him, he had
+recently been ejected, along with a considerable quantity of fluid.
+
+He saw the girl, Lyssa Arthurs, sprawled beside him. Worriedly, Perry
+scrambled over to her. She was still unconscious, though breathing
+raggedly. Her rubber oxygen mask was intact, except for the metal
+and glass parts, which were curiously pitted and malformed. By some
+unknown transformation the oxygen tanks strapped to her shoulders, were
+similarly distorted and useless. They were full of holes, and had lost
+their compressed content. Perry had parted with his mask during his
+scuffle with the robots, and now his tanks had broken loose from his
+shoulders somewhere too. He noticed that even the metal buttons of his
+shirt were rough and out of shape.
+
+He ripped the useless, ill-fitting mask from Troubles' face, unfastened
+the crooked buckles that held the oxygen flasks in place, and applied
+artificial respiration.
+
+Meanwhile he searched his surroundings. What had been done to Troubles
+and himself, and where had they been taken? He looked again toward
+the open end of the compartment. Beyond was a gigantic, beautiful
+cavern, apparently many miles in extent. It was walled with coarse,
+jagged glass. Through a system of lenses in its azure roof, light was
+streaming down. It must be artificial, but it was just about like
+reddish sunlight. The floor of the cavern was like a beautiful, wild
+valley, crowded with strange, exotic trees and plants; and white
+buildings peeped through the foliage.
+
+What had happened looked almost simple to Perry Wilcox then. He and
+Troubles had merely passed down through the vat, to a vast, habitable,
+artificially excavated cavern below. But he couldn't accept this
+idea, somehow. It was _too_ simple. And there was an elusive
+strangeness, disquieting and hard to identify, about everything he saw
+and felt. It was more than just the oddity of the vegetation and the
+buildings.
+
+After a minute, Lyssa Arthurs sighed and tried to rise. She looked
+about, confusedly. "Where are we?" she demanded.
+
+"Your guess is as good as mine, Troubles," Perry returned, awedly. "But
+we must be at the final center of things--at the place the robots up
+there were meant to guard. Whatever that may be."
+
+They rested several minutes, not saying much. Then Troubles arose
+shakily. "Come on. Let's explore, fella," she urged.
+
+Perry supported her unsteady steps as they walked out of the open-ended
+chamber. The ground around them was covered with a kind of coarse,
+shaggy moss. Trees, formed like oversized bushes, reared up over them,
+bearing strange fruits. The light which came from above, was warm, like
+sunshine.
+
+"Kind of like a heaven here, isn't it?" the girl asked.
+
+Perry grinned, though his head still ached. "What are you trying to do,
+pull my leg?--talking that kind of bunk!" he growled.
+
+"Only it's so still and deserted-looking," Lyssa went on. "There's not
+a path anywhere. And look! That building!"
+
+They had passed through a grove. Near them was a long structure of
+white stone. But it was like a ruin. Its rows of windows, with their
+carved decorations, some of them human figures, were sightless and
+empty, except for intruding masses of coarse, vinelike plants. Once,
+from its appearance, the building might have been a gigantic apartment
+house, teeming with inhabitants. And there were others like it, near,
+and far off on the high slopes of the cavern. But all had that same
+tenantless aspect.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Perry and Troubles were moving along a street of what might have been a
+village. At the farther end of the street was a domed edifice of glass
+of different colors.
+
+And at the crest of the dome, standing firmly on a stubby cylinder
+which was evidently meant to represent some sort of ship, was the
+golden figure of a man, clad in flowing robes. The face of the colossus
+was stern and kindly as he stared off into the distance as if somewhere
+there he watched for the realization of a hope. The great staff he
+clutched, rested on his pedestal and rose straight upward to join with
+the roof of the cavern, above.
+
+There was a steep stairway leading down to the sunken grounds of the
+domed edifice. Lyssa, hurrying ahead on still unsteady legs, and
+looking up too intently at the golden image above, lost her balance and
+pitched forward on the steep slant. She tumbled the full length of it.
+Perry gave a shout of concern and leaped after her, sure that she must
+have at least broken some bones.
+
+But she got up quite nimbly and promptly. "Stumble bum!" she muttered,
+frowning. And then in a new and different kind of tone: "Perry--that
+was funny, wasn't it? I'm not hurt at all!" There was wonder in her
+dark eyes.
+
+He was puffing with relief, but was startled, too. "Yeah, I see!" he
+said. "It's stranger than the desertion, here. I landed light myself.
+It was as though the air was holding me back--partly. As though it has
+a higher resistance, or something! But that's looney!"
+
+They walked into the temple. The atmosphere there was cool and moist.
+Glass pillars, spiral in form, loomed in the shadows. Lyssa and Perry
+looked around intently, as if searching for the answer to a riddle.
+
+In an indented portion of the blue grass floor, there was a cluster
+of spherical globes, crystal clear. They were maybe three inches in
+diameter.
+
+Idly, yet with an odd and very significant thought lurking in the
+back of her mind, Lyssa kicked at one of the globes with her rough
+shoe. Immediately it broke, coalescing liquidly with several of its
+neighbors to form a slightly flattened ovoid. It was like a huge drop
+of quicksilver in shape.
+
+Lyssa was thinking deeply, but then Perry got her off the track. "Look,
+Troubles!" he shouted. "The air resistance really is higher here!"
+
+She turned her eyes toward where he pointed. Light shafted into the
+room through the high, arching entrance. Surrounding semi-darkness
+brought out the phenomenon plainly. Motes were floating in the path of
+the light. And long, fibrous things, like lint. Only the motes were as
+large as grains of sand, and the crooked strings of lint were as thick
+as lead pencils!
+
+"The air resistance would have to be higher, or the rate of its
+molecular motion and bombardment would have to be a lot swifter than
+usual, to support such big particles," said Perry. "But how can that
+be? It seems the same old familiar air!" He halted, a startled scowl
+crinkling his sunbleached eyebrows. "Say!" he drawled at last, mounting
+incredulity in his tone. "Say!..."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Sensing that he was at the last barrier of the riddle that had begun
+with his discovery of the great triangular outline in Minnesota hills,
+he studied the glass walls around him. In the depths of their colored
+substance, he could see large bubbles, and flaws of exaggerated size.
+Then his gaze fell on the liquid, globular things that Troubles had
+kicked. They looked exactly as though it was ordinary water that
+composed them--as though they were dewdrops--except for their huge
+dimensions.
+
+"That's the funny thing we noticed, but couldn't quite place," Lyssa
+offered. "That dew. That dust in the air. The flaws in glass. Such
+stuff is all bigger than it should be, Perry. But what does that mean?"
+
+Perry was thinking as fast and as hard as he could, then, trying to
+put together all the puzzling pieces of his recent experience. Most
+significant was the odd, tightening, _shrinking_ sensation, he had
+felt, after the automatons had tossed him into the vat of liquid.
+
+"Troubles," he said very slowly. "I--think--I've--got--it!
+_We've--been--reduced--in--size!_ We're Lilliputians, maybe an
+inch high, now! This cavern isn't the huge thing it seems to us.
+Comparatively, it's a toy cavern. The buildings are toy buildings;
+though they naturally seem gigantic to us, because we're so small too.
+But dew and dust, relying on universal physical laws of nature, remain
+normally--big!"
+
+"But, Perry," she asked in the same awed tone he had used. "Is that
+possible--that we've been shrunken, and still remain alive afterward?"
+
+"Why not?" he questioned in response. "Everything is practically the
+same--really--just scaled down.[1] Every cell in our bodies must have
+been correspondingly shrunken, of course, so that there are as many
+cells now as in the beginning. Otherwise we wouldn't be--ourselves. If
+there weren't somewhere near the normal number of grey cells in our
+brains, for instance, we'd lose our reasoning powers.
+
+[Footnote 1: Judging from the vat in which Perry and Troubles were
+reduced, the apparatus attached to it, and the sensations of being in
+that green fluid, it would seem that the process of reduction is partly
+electrical. Perhaps similar to electroplating--the drawing away of
+substance from one electrode, and its transfer, in the form of ions,
+to the opposite electrode. Each cell in Perry's and Troubles' bodies,
+and in their clothing, could have been reduced that way. This isn't
+so startling when reduced to prime factors. The human body is simply
+chemicals. So are clothes. And life may be electrical in itself.--Ed.]
+
+"We were thrown into the vat. Energy worked on us, drawing substance
+away from each living cell--fat, protein, sugar, water--and the
+cell-walls shrank, and we shrank with them. Our excess body substance
+was perhaps absorbed by the green fluid, maybe being preserved for a
+reversal of the process--a return to normal size. Only judging from
+what happened to our metal buttons and things, the trick doesn't work
+out very well for inorganic substances."
+
+Perry halted, recalling something significant. "Remember how you fell
+down those stairs up there, without being hurt at all, Troubles?" he
+questioned. "That you weren't hurt is part of the relativity of being
+small. Take a mouse and drop him from a high place, and his injury
+doesn't amount to much. Drop a man from the same height, and he gets
+all smashed up."[2]
+
+[Footnote 2: For a given shape and density of material, the smaller an
+object the higher the proportionate resistance it offers to the air.
+This is because, in relation to its bulk, a small object has a greater
+surface area than a large one. Hence, relatively more friction. Thus,
+in air, a mouse might be expected to fall slightly slower than a man.
+
+But this is not the most important reason why small objects are not as
+easily damaged by proportionate forces as large objects. Take the model
+of an ocean liner. It seems very firm and rigid. Build a full-size ship
+under the same specifications--same steel, same relative thicknesses
+and lengths. If it was possible to pick such a ship up from either end,
+it would be in danger of breaking in two under its own weight!
+
+Small objects are relatively stronger. In order to make a full-size
+ship as strong as its model, the strength of the materials used would
+have to be increased in proportion.--Ed.]
+
+Lyssa Arthurs seemed to muse for a moment. "Yes," she said. "I see....
+Whoever built the fortress must have built this miniature cavern before
+they reduced their size, since this building is constructed all in one
+piece, and not of blocks cemented together. And you wouldn't expect
+little people to do that very readily. Then they came down through the
+vat apparatus. But why, Perry? Why did they want to be small? What
+advantage was there in it? Who were they?"
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Overhead, in the arching dome, Perry Wilcox noticed a picture. An ocean
+washing a jagged shore. It looked just like a modern ocean. Only, in
+the gorges between the jagged volcanic bluffs, there were bizarre,
+fernlike trees, such as had existed in the Terrestrial Carboniferous
+Period.
+
+"I think," he said, "these people came from another planet. That ship
+looks like a space ship."
+
+"Do you really think so?"
+
+"Yes, and it was a tough world for a raw bunch of colonists," Perry
+went on. "So it was probably easier for them to make a small world
+of their own. One they thought they could regulate and control.
+Only--there was something wrong with it. That's why they're extinct."
+
+"I guess you're right, Perry," the girl offered. "They built the
+fortress. It was their first encampment, within which they could make
+their preparations. Then, when they were ready to become small, they
+covered it over to hide it. The automatons were sealed up, with special
+apparatus to make them active--if there was danger--if some snooper
+came around. For instance you, Perry. Our being sent down here, was
+part of the plan too--captives or guests. Only the little people who
+were supposed to receive us, have disappeared."
+
+It was obviously true. The valley of the cavern looked deserted to its
+farthest, verdure-clad reaches. The buildings, peeping white through
+the green, were skeletally silent. There was no sound.
+
+The desolation got on Perry Wilcox's nerves. The vast futility of the
+mechanical debacle going on above. A dream that had soured. A science
+of miracles that had followed a Will-o'-the-Wisp to a dead end. And
+then Perry thought of something that changed his mood.
+
+"They must have had a way to control the robots from here, Troubles,"
+he said. "Everything else is too perfectly arranged for it to be
+otherwise. They wouldn't just lock themselves down here, blind to
+the upper world, would they? There must be a control room somewhere.
+And logically it should be in this building, since it's the most
+important-appearing one in the place."
+
+
+
+
+                              CHAPTER V
+
+                         Nemesis from the Tiny
+
+
+Perry and Lyssa found what they were searching for at last, after
+climbing a long, spiral stairs. The chamber was round, and was above
+the dome of the temple, just beneath the representation of the space
+ship and the golden statue of that ancient leader. The disk-shaped door
+was fastened by a great hasp that was disengaged easily.
+
+Wheels, meters, switches, charts. Never before had Perry Wilcox seen
+such a staggering array. His heart sank. Could he ever master such a
+complex arrangement in time to do any good--to stop the robots and
+that vast, senseless conflict above? He tugged at one wheel. It turned
+a very little, and a meter needle nearby jumped, showing that the
+apparatus was still effective. But there the wheel stuck. It was locked
+by a slight film of corrosion. Though things in this control room were
+marvelously preserved, considering their titanic age, they had not been
+protected by a time-defying vacuum.
+
+Perry's face went sober and tired. "Even if these are the right
+controls," he said, "it would take me a week and a lot of oil and
+brain work to loosen 'em up and figure 'em out so I could turn off hell
+up above."
+
+Then his gaze centered on a mirror nearby. It was part of a periscope
+arrangement which evidently communicated with the surface, its upper
+end cleared of encumbering earth by the robots.
+
+In the mirror was visible the slope of a hill, bright in after noon
+sunshine. A solid array of army tanks were creeping up it laboriously.
+Behind them, guns blazed. But down upon those attackers was pouring a
+hail of death--of sharper, more violent explosions--that wiped out two
+and three of the tanks at a time. Beyond, the plain was being filled
+with a miasmic fog of death--corrosive gas. Still, the tanks came on,
+each with its load of brave young men. Wave on wave, to destruction.
+
+Perry stood watching for several moments. Viewed from the distance, the
+tanks looked hardly bigger than they would have, had he been normal
+size. His position was sort of a joke. He was standing where a general
+from another planet should have stood while directing his guardian
+robot army. But he was helpless.
+
+"Kerwin is still at it," Perry remarked at last, his voice so
+matter-of-fact that it was startling.
+
+He was thinking bitterly of many things. Of the way plans were made,
+hopefully, till they became faith. And then the disillusion of
+miscarried results--of fact. Like this buried utopia. Its creators
+had worked for its realization. They had achieved it, but they had
+vanished. Like himself, and like Rod Murgatroyd. Rod, blinded, but
+talking with hollow magnificence, of a strange heritage. Path of
+Progress. The inspiration of a more ancient science to spur mankind on.
+Oh, it sounded good, but it was all--screwy!
+
+Wilcox blew up at last. "With Kerwin in control, Rod's probably already
+dead--lynched by a mob!" he said. "And here we are, down here, a couple
+of helpless peewees! I suppose we could go back to normal size--back
+the same way we came here. There are controls there in the entrance
+chamber. But what good would that do? We'd still be peewees!"
+
+But Troubles was of a somewhat different attitude. "Maybe inch-high
+peewees like us have advantages at that," she said significantly.
+"Look, fella."
+
+She was pointing to a slender, graceful object that rested in a metal
+frame over their heads. It was very like an airplane, with short,
+stubby wings. But instead of propellers it had rocket nozzles. Wheels
+on its bottom, clung to a helical guide rail that spiraled upward
+inside a great, vertical tube that must find its way to the surface
+somewhere. Apparently the tube was the inside of the staff held by the
+golden colossus above. And the staff penetrated the cavern's roof.
+
+"Naturally, being as advanced in science as they were, those old people
+would keep something to get about with, wouldn't they?" Troubles
+questioned, as she climbed up the ladder to the craft's cabin entrance.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Opening the door was a difficult thing; but Perry bounded up the rungs
+and was helping her. He was ready to take his chances too, in spite of
+his talk.
+
+The door opened under the hammering pressure of his calloused palm.
+There was space inside for two or three people to lie prone. The
+controls were not unfamiliar. There was a joystick, and a second lever
+which must take the place of rudder pedals.
+
+Perry was wiggling, the control. They were stiff but not immovable.
+With an eye of a practiced airman, he noted what they did to the tail
+and wing fins. So far, so good. He turned a small valve on the dash.
+There was a creaky, rhythmic sputter from behind. Evidently there was
+still fuel in the tanks. In response to the brief rocket thrust, the
+craft rolled a little way up the spiral guide rail. Then back to norm
+as Perry returned the throttle to its original position.
+
+"So what?" he said with a shrug. "Nothing funny about finding this
+crate here. It's made of the same kind of evidently almost uncorrodable
+metals as the instruments here in the control room. So it should last
+forever. And the old-timers must have longed for the great outdoors
+sometimes. That's logical enough. But there isn't the sign of a
+weapon--nothing we could use to attack a giant. And Kerwin is a giant,
+now, in relation to us!"
+
+"How about bluff?" Troubles questioned, dimples of exasperation showing
+at the corners of her mouth. "Come on, bonehead. Quit stalling! Haven't
+you got any imagination at all?"
+
+Wilcox grinned at her, startled and admiring. Her attitude gave him a
+lifting sense of adventure. "Okay!" he drawled. "Funny, though--I used
+to think you were a friend of Kerwin's. Of course, you could be trying
+to pull a fast one yet, I suppose!"
+
+"And I could knock that pug schnozzle of yours flatter than it is, for
+that crack!" Troubles returned. "Come on! Let's see action--if you're
+good enough to get any out of this thing!"
+
+Perry opened the throttle. A little at first, then more and more. Speed
+was built up. It became a dizzy whirl. Around and around that spiral
+track, up and up....
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Lyman Kerwin sat in his office, topping the great Kerwin Building at
+Chicago. Glass surrounded him--thick, green-tinted, bullet-proof glass.
+Above him, beyond the metal-ribbed sky-panes of his eyrie, the star
+blinked. Lyman Kerwin was studying the notes of the speech he was going
+to deliver in five minutes.
+
+Thoughts went racing through his fevered brain. Thoughts of
+satisfaction and triumph. Here he was like a god, far up above the
+rabble. What did it matter if a lot of them hated him, and mistrusted
+his motives? They were afraid of what it was out there, not so many
+hundreds of miles to the north-west. He'd see that they remained
+frightened, as long as it was necessary.
+
+They didn't know what he knew--what the poor fool, Professor Vince, had
+found out--that the enemy were only machines, awesome in their powers,
+but incapable of organized thought. Someday, when Vince had learned
+more for him, and when there'd been enough fighting to give him full
+control of the country, those robots would doubtless provide him with a
+means of keeping his power in hand, even of extending it.
+
+Lyman Kerwin arose from his chair and strode to the paneled cabinet in
+the corner. He entered the cabinet and snapped on the brilliant lights
+on either side of him. Facing him was a radio microphone and a pair of
+lensed, television eyes. He had only to close a switch to make himself
+visible and audible to the waiting world.
+
+Above him was a mirror. Kerwin admired himself in it. He knew he wasn't
+handsome--in any ordinary way, at least. It would be better, of course,
+if he were young. But he looked like a master. He looked clever. Yes,
+he _was_ clever! A genius! And his new, black uniform was slick,
+becoming the role he must play. There was a badge on the coat lapel.
+U.S. in black blocked letters, against a red background. And at the
+center, in a gold star that was like a small, bright halo of glory, his
+own initials in black--L.K. The badge was his own idea, and the jeweler
+had wrought skillfully.
+
+It was almost time for the speech, now. Kerwin turned about to get
+his notes. He stopped in chagrin. The papers on his desk were burning
+merrily! How they had become ignited, he couldn't imagine, since he
+hadn't been smoking. It was unnerving. The first wave of fright went
+through his cowardly soul as he bounded forward to brush the burning
+papers to the floor, and stamp out the flames.
+
+He hadn't seen the tiny, two-inch thing, like a miniature plane in
+shape and function, that had come down through the ventilator above.
+While his back was turned, it had darted toward the papers. Its atomic
+rocket blasts, blue and almost invisible, yet terrifically hot,
+had touched the litter on the desk. Now the minute intruder clung,
+inactive, by means of anchoring claws, to the wallward side of an urn
+of flowers atop a bookcase.
+
+Kerwin shrugged his hunched, sloping shoulders. "I don't need the
+notes," he thought, trying to reassure himself--trying to drive the
+nameless, uncanny fear out of his heart.
+
+He walked to the television cabinet and snapped the switches. It was
+time to broadcast.
+
+"My friends," he began. "Today we have started the big push against
+the Murgatroyd-Wilcox Horror. It may be that hundreds of thousands
+of men must die in the battle to hold this terrible enemy in check.
+But this cannot be helped. I have tried to do my part. I appreciate
+the great honor that has been bestowed upon me in making me Director
+of Defense. But for efficiency, I cannot go on in this manner. There
+is too much bickering among people who are not sincerely fighting
+for the welfare of humanity. I must have the means to command, and if
+necessary, silence these individuals. I must have full control of all
+the nation's resources. In this emergency, not a moment must be wasted
+in friction--in lack of cooperation. I have--"
+
+Kerwin's small eyes were beginning to shine, but he stopped abruptly.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Very near to him, he heard a tiny voice speaking. Its tones were like
+the tinkling of minute flakes of glass. It was an impossible voice,
+and yet a vaguely familiar one. Though it seemed close--almost at his
+shoulder--still it seemed, too, to be shouted from a great distance:
+
+"Interesting speech, Kerwin! Well planned! You've reached the crucial
+point in your scheme, huh? All right! Go on! Don't hesitate!"
+
+But Lyman Kerwin's words had broken off. He half turned. Then he
+remembered his audience--millions of people observing his every move
+by means of television. He didn't dare show any fear or disconcertion,
+now! The rabble must believe in him. But a cold dew of terror was
+breaking out on his bald pate and skinny cheeks.
+
+"I have--I think--proved my worth," he continued, stammering into the
+microphone. "I must not be hampered by--by the President of the United
+States, and by--Congress. I--" Kerwin's voice was becoming a thin
+squeak.
+
+"What's the matter, Kerwin?" came taunting words in those thready,
+elfin, confident tones. "Got stage fright or something? Don't act like
+that! Pull yourself together! People will start laughing at you, first
+thing you know!"
+
+"I--" the crooked financier gurgled, struggling to go on with his
+oratory from where he had left off; but nervousness seemed to have
+strangled him.
+
+And the unseen, pixy speaker went on: "Come now, Kerwin!" he was
+chided. "This won't do at all! You're a big man, you know! You've sent
+thousands of youth to their deaths already--just for your own glory.
+You can't let everybody know you've got a yella streak a yard wide....
+No, stop! Don't go turning off those switches! It happens we could kill
+you in a split second. On the second thought, maybe it's just as well
+folks see what goes on here. You wouldn't want anybody to be misled,
+would you? There, that's better! Don't shiver so much. Don't turn. Just
+stay where you are....
+
+"That's probably a real good microphone you've got there, Kerwin.
+It'll probably pick up even my voice, so everybody can hear it. I'm
+not exactly just the voice of your conscience, you see. Nor am I so
+easily ignored. By now many men know what you're up to, Kerwin. They
+know about those robots--that they're only mechanical things intended
+for defense. They've learned this fact in the front lines. But you've
+been clever enough to keep them there, where they'd be killed quickly.
+But we know more about this so-called 'Murgatroyd-Wilcox Horror' than
+you or your scientists do, Kerwin. Because we've been--and so to speak
+still are--_on the inside_!
+
+"There's just one thing for me to say to the world, Kerwin. There isn't
+time, right at this moment, for complete explanations. But I think many
+people will anticipate my suggestion--that the army be withdrawn to a
+distance of half a mile from its present entrenchments. I do not think
+it will be attacked there. If we are given ten days to work--Miss Lyssa
+Arthurs, late of the _Brenton Herald_, and myself, Perry Wilcox--I
+think the trouble will be cleared up."
+
+The little voice took on a sharper edge, as it addressed itself more
+directly to the financier: "You can turn around now, Kerwin. I guess
+it's the end, huh? They've seen you, they've got your number. They've
+heard me talk. Maybe they're wondering what it's all about. Maybe
+they're scared and uncertain. But one thing's sure--you're through.
+You're a yellow fake, Kerwin...."
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+Slowly the financier pivoted on rubbery legs. His now bulging eyes saw
+nothing but the great room, which was to have been the focus of his
+empire.
+
+Quivering with a horror that was part nameless and partly born of the
+knowledge that he was an exposed enemy of society who could never
+escape, Kerwin backed along the wall. He reached a window, and tugged
+at its fastenings for air.
+
+He gave a start as a low hiss sounded near him. Looking back, he saw
+a little dartlike thing, spitting blue flame, and swinging close. It
+had an ugly, alien look. He ducked it, screaming. With wild clawings
+in which no reason remained, except to escape that devilish, hissing
+unknown, he climbed to the window sill. There he toppled briefly,
+babbling:
+
+"I didn't mean it! No! Don't!..."
+
+A moment later he pitched, with a wail of terror, toward the street far
+below.
+
+This time he hadn't heard two faint tinkly voices, shouting a belated
+warning. Perry and Troubles hadn't meant to frighten him to this
+extreme.
+
+The plane flew back, alighting before the microphone, and in the path
+of those television lenses. Two little doll-like beings descended
+from the craft. For ten minutes Perry Wilcox talked, telling what had
+happened; and the world saw and heard. Then he and his companion
+returned to the plane. With a hiss it flew toward the ventilator in the
+ceiling. And the city below, hummed in wonder.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+There were some doubts, of course; but the big push was stopped. A week
+later, the army, watching from its new, rearward trenches, saw a sudden
+cessation of motion on the citadel they faced. Most of the gleaming
+Titans there, stood still in their tracks, as though frozen in the
+morning sunshine.
+
+Perry Wilcox and Lyssa Arthurs were pulled, inert, from the vat of
+green liquid by attendant robots left active for the purpose. They had
+submitted to the reversal of the process of decreased size, and now
+they were normal again. After an hour they awoke. They passed through
+the exit tunnel, and out into the open air. They climbed down the
+silent slopes beyond the ramparts.
+
+They reached the ragged, battered river flats, strewn with wreckage
+and dotted with silent metal giants. Then someone hailed them. A tank,
+piloted by a soldier, pulled close. Its turret opened, and a head was
+thrust out. Perry saw a new Windsor tie, new checkered shirt, a thin
+face, a bit blistered, and red hair, singed short--only, there was a
+bandage over the eyes.
+
+"Rod!" Perry gasped. "I thought--"
+
+Old Roderick Murgatroyd laughed. "I know," he chuckled. "You thought
+Kerwin's roustabouts lynched me. But when they stormed the hospital, I
+wasn't there! Fooled 'em. Sneaked off. Then some newshounds cornered
+me. But never mind that! See! I've got my newsreel rig!" He was
+clutching the small camera strapped around his neck as he continued
+plaintively: "I want to take some pictures, Perry. Darn, I can't wait
+for my eyes to get better! Show me what's good. Path of Progress has
+made its greatest hit. We've got to carry on, Perry...."
+
+Wilcox' face was suddenly pained. But he kept his voice brisk. "Sure
+we've got to carry on, Rod!" he enthused. "Hurry up and get out of that
+tin wagon! There's at least a hundred battle automatons standing here
+around us!"
+
+"Hang the automatons," said the old scientist, jumping down lithely
+with the guidance of Perry's hand. "I want a picture of you, first!"
+
+"That means Troubles too, then," Perry shot back. "I think you'll be
+buying wedding presents before very long!"
+
+"Jupiter! That's swell! Now, let's see.... Just where are you?"
+
+"Right here, Rod!" Lyssa said briskly, a small, unnoticeable catch in
+her gay tone. "Standing close together. Shoot!"
+
+They let him take his time, fumbling eagerly but clumsily with his
+camera. And from his enthusiasm they drew many thoughts. He was a
+little like the leader of those people from interstellar space, who had
+built themselves a lovely, forbidden paradise in the small--a paradise
+that native Earth men would never colonize, though there might soon be
+found many uses even for the ionic science that had made it possible.
+Exploration of places that full-size men could never reach. A miniature
+secret service, perhaps.
+
+The golden statue on the crest of the Pantheon, down there. Old Rod
+belonged to that same class--an idealist. Nor could Perry Wilcox scoff
+now, for he was one himself.
+
+In the silence, Rod Murgatroyd's camera mechanism worked. In the
+background, above the scarred slope, smoke arose silently from the vent
+of a subterranean factory.
+
+This was old Rod's moment of triumph. So Perry and Troubles could not
+tell him that his eyes were gone.
+
+
+
+*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 75441 ***
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+<div style='text-align:center'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 75441 ***</div>
+
+<div class="titlepage">
+
+<h1>Terror out of the Past</h1>
+
+<p class="ph1">By Raymond Z. Gallun</p>
+
+<p>Perry Wilcox descends into the earth to solve<br>
+the secret of an incredibly ancient civilization.</p>
+
+<p>[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from<br>
+Amazing Stories March 1940.<br>
+Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that<br>
+the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]</p>
+
+</div>
+
+<hr class="chap">
+
+<p>"Rod!" Perry Wilcox shouted above the sound of bracewires singing in
+the slipstream: "In the name of Mathuselah! Look! there!"</p>
+
+<p>Doctor Roderick Murgatroyd's shrewd old eyes probed swiftly along
+the line of Perry's pointing arm. For a moment he couldn't get it at
+all—couldn't see what hundreds of airmen, flying over this place
+during the past three or four decades, had missed entirely. But then,
+as Perry circled the plane around in a steep bank, it came over the old
+adventurer-scientist gradually.</p>
+
+<p>There was a humping configuration of those hills down there—faint in
+outline as an old footprint in a rainwashed garden. It couldn't have
+been noticed from the ground in a million years, and even from this
+altitude it was as vague in outline as the memory of a dream.</p>
+
+<p>The hills below looked like a gigantic Indian Mound, a mile in extent,
+and perfectly though dimly triangular. Regularly placed along its
+straight sides, were humps—foggy nodules—suggesting somehow the ruins
+of massive turrets, lying buried beneath layer on layer of repeated
+glacial silt.</p>
+
+<p>Rod Murgatroyd began to cuss, half to relieve his feelings and half as
+though to drive away the possibility that he and Perry were mistaken.</p>
+
+<p>"By the nine gods!" he roared back through the propstream. "It's a
+fortress, Perry! You can almost see the battlements! But who in the
+name of the Cyclops could have built it? And when? And what in heck are
+we gonna do about it, Perry?..." Murgatroyd's voice was almost a whine
+of eagerness at the end.</p>
+
+<p>Perry Wilcox was grinning broadly. "Do?" he returned, knowing that
+Rod had already passed the obvious answer and was planning far ahead.
+"What are you asking me that for? It ain't much of a riddle, is it?" He
+swung the plane into the wind, and began the glide toward Schroeder's
+hayfield.</p>
+
+<p>Forty-eight hours afterwards, behind a high board fence, erected for
+secrecy—that is, as much secrecy as they could hope to achieve in
+surroundings that knew them well—the small crew they had assembled was
+busy. A heavy diesel motor pounded steadily, driving a rotary drill
+that was digging deep into the side of a low knoll.</p>
+
+<p>For weeks the work went on. Five separate shafts were sunk into the
+ground, the first four of them reaching down to the solid stratum of
+fire rock, below the lowest and oldest fossil levels. From the depths
+of those first four shafts the drill brought up pieces of stone, some
+of which had angular corners, like carven blocks. And there were great
+lumps of rust too, that might have been reenforcing bars of steel.
+Thus the mystery deepened, taking on qualities of nervous unrest and
+expectancy.</p>
+
+<p>And then, far down in the fifth shaft, the spinning diamond points of
+the drill snarled into a new medium. An hour later, in the summer dusk,
+Roderick Murgatroyd stood shifting a few ounces of muck, brought up
+from the excavation, back and forth between his palms. Most of it was
+grey volcanic stuff, but mingled with it were long shreds of metal,
+scored out by the drillpoints. The metal was as soft and pliable as
+lead, but it possessed a very considerable tensile strength. Tests
+had already proved that it was lead, alloyed with certain rare-earth
+elements, probably to increase its toughness, and to render it immune
+to the ravages of time.</p>
+
+<p>"It's true, Perry," Murgatroyd said very quietly to the younger man
+beside him. "Truer than we could have quite understood before. Metal
+down there shows that. A carefully prepared alloy, such as only a very
+well developed metallurgical science could have produced. A layer, or a
+shell. Or maybe just a block. We don't know yet.</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, we're on the right trail, Perry, even if it does look like
+a wild trail! Only yesterday the drill brought up fossils of an
+<i>undisturbed</i> stratum belonging to the Jurassic Period, the Age
+of Reptiles many millions of years ago! That means, Perry—" and the
+old Scotch-American's voice was still more vibrant and tense—"that
+means that this lead alloy was made and put into place before—long
+before—the time of the dinosaurs. In fact, if we are to judge from
+the stratum immediately surrounding the metal, it is contemporary with
+the Carboniferous Era or Coal Period. That's the point, Perry. There
+weren't any men on this planet at that time. And there weren't going to
+be any men for ages and ages. At least not Earth men...."</p>
+
+<p>Perry Wilcox nodded, controlling his own taut nerves. They were right
+at the edge of a staggering discovery, he was sure. It might break any
+minute, now, or any hour. The drill machinery still vibrated, boring
+into that mass of metal deep in the ground. The pumps, sucking seepage
+water out of the excavation, still throbbed. The two men's ears were
+tuned to the sound of the machinery. Any shift or change in the regular
+beat of the drill would have a story to tell. Thus they waited, as
+night began to fall, slowly but surely.</p>
+
+<hr class="tb">
+
+<p>They hadn't heard the soft purr of an expensive automobile on the
+roadway beyond the fence, at the foot of the slope. But now the sounds
+of a brief, angry argument at the gate, some hundred yards away, drew
+their startled, nervous attention. With so much that was unknown and
+unhintable pending, this was hardly the time to receive visitors of any
+kind, certainly not hostile visitors with ideas of their own.</p>
+
+<p>Uneasily, Wilcox and Murgatroyd turned to face a group of people
+hurrying toward them across the intervening area of the fenced
+enclosure. One was a trusted workman, left to guard the gate. But the
+others—there were four men and a girl—had been able to overrule the
+guard's refusal to admit them.</p>
+
+<p>Of the four men, three were burly, massive specimens with the scars of
+many combats marking their coarse features. The fourth was slender and
+bent, maybe fifty. His head was entirely bald, his cheeks had withered
+lines in them, and his squinted piggish eyes held a look of secretive,
+hungry searching.</p>
+
+<p>Murgatroyd and Wilcox had no trouble recognizing this uninvited guest,
+who clearly was the master mind of the intruding group. All the world
+knew Lyman Kerwin, whose colossal fortune had thrust dominance-seeking
+tentacles into most of the key industries of America. Path of Progress,
+Rod's and Perry's outfit, had tangled with him once. They'd taken
+newsreel pictures of the collapse of one of the gigantic but poorly
+constructed power and irrigation dams which he had built in one of
+the western states. Hundreds of people had been killed, and thousands
+had been rendered homeless by a disaster traceable to materials and
+workmanship far less costly than specified. Only Kerwin's money,
+fixing a corrupt court, had enabled him to escape the consequences of
+criminal misrepresentation.</p>
+
+<p>Seeing Kerwin, and the inquiring speculative glances he cast about the
+enclosure, Doctor Murgatroyd's pointed red face suddenly darkened with
+fury, chagrin, and something like a nameless, nervous panic.</p>
+
+<p>"Thunder of Jupiter!" he whispered hoarsely. "That polecat would have
+to barge in now—now, of all times! We might have known it, Perry! But
+you just wait till I sail into him! The dirty—"</p>
+
+<p>Perry silenced the old scientist with a poke in the ribs. "You keep
+still," he ordered. "Just make believe you're bossing the drill crew."</p>
+
+<hr class="tb">
+
+<p>The young man advanced slowly a few steps toward the intruders. He
+didn't grin or scowl. He just kept his face straight, ready to meet
+Kerwin in whatever manner the latter might ask for by his actions or
+words. Perry did notice the girl in the party, though—briefly. She
+was walking beside Kerwin. Chestnut curls peeped from beneath an odd
+little hat. There was a sprinkling of freckles across her tanned,
+earnest face. Perry knew her slightly. She was Lyssa Arthurs, better
+known as Troubles, reporter for a paper in the neighboring town of
+Brenton. Cute, plucky kid, but she seemed a little self-conscious now.
+And evidently she had strange tastes in company. Perry dismissed her
+presence with a curt nod that could hardly have been called a greeting.</p>
+
+<p>When he spoke, Kerwin didn't allow a lot of room for doubt as to his
+attitude, in spite of the veiled terms he used.</p>
+
+<p>"Hello, Wilcox!" he hailed volubly in a rich voice that was in sharp
+contrast with his cadaverous appearance. "I thought I'd call, since
+you and the Professor are always doing such interesting things. What's
+up? Boring for oil or something?"</p>
+
+<p>Perry kept silent, waiting for Kerwin to talk a little more.</p>
+
+<p>"You might as well answer my question, Wilcox," the financier urged.
+"I'll find out anyway, you know."</p>
+
+<p>"Maybe they're diggin' a road down to China, Chief," one of Kerwin's
+bodyguards offered with dry and slightly sinister humor. "Or a nice,
+deep hole to bury themselves in."</p>
+
+<p>Before Perry could speak there was an interruption. The sound of the
+drill nearby, busy in the dusk, changed abruptly. There was a grating,
+hollow noise from far underground. Then the whine of machinery racing
+without resistance. Out of the pipe which ejected the muck and chipped
+stone and metal shreds brought up from the drilling, there came a
+gurgling puff, as of air trapped in a subterranean cavern, and under
+slightly higher pressure than that of the surface, being suddenly
+released from confinement.</p>
+
+<p>Workmen leaped to throw out the clutch of the big diesel. Old Rod
+Murgatroyd began to swear excitedly, for it was clear what had
+happened. The drill had broken through the metal at last. It had
+reached a hollow space down there. A room, a chamber, perhaps, which
+the shell of lead alloy was meant to protect.</p>
+
+<p>Perry Wilcox felt his pulses racing wildly. The presence of Kerwin
+could not spoil his sense of victory. In the evening air around him
+there was suddenly a faint, musty odor, like that of an old cellar, but
+with a distinctive quality all its own.</p>
+
+<p>Perry saw the workmen step back from the machinery, as if they didn't
+know quite what to do or say. And he could tell, too, that the
+sudden cessation of movement, and that noisome smell, indescribably
+suggestive of a time that was dead for incredible eons, had had its
+effect on Lyman Kerwin. Kerwin's lips dangled loosely, and his eyes had
+lost a lot of their squint. His face was sweaty, and paler than usual.</p>
+
+<p>"You asked what was up, Kerwin," Perry growled at last. "Well, so
+far we've tried to keep our work here dark so we could get the
+first investigations completed without interference. But I guess
+there's no use to stall. You said you'd find out anyway, and you're
+right—whatever good that'll do you. I think everybody'll get the story
+in a few days, or even hours. I suppose somebody tipped you off about
+what we were doing—somebody who lives around here." Perry grinned
+crookedly at the girl, Lyssa Arthurs, as he made this half accusation.</p>
+
+<p>"But it doesn't matter," he went on. "You saw what just happened,
+Kerwin. We've evidently reached something with the drill. I don't know
+what—yet. But it's terribly old, Kerwin. And get this—there's metal
+down there—a perfectly balanced alloy as old as the Carboniferous
+fossils! Yes, it's pretty big, Kerwin! And liable to be—dangerous!
+Why, hell, even that cellar stench that came up from down there might
+actually be poisonous! It might contain microscopic spores that, in
+contact with human lungs, could grow and kill. Spores from the past,
+Kerwin. Sealed up and kept alive through the ages. Of course it's a
+thin possibility, but who can say? Do you still want to hang around,
+Kerwin?"</p>
+
+<p>The latter's retreat was just a trifle too quick for good poise, and
+the sudden fury of his expression wasn't good form either.</p>
+
+<p>"Rot, Wilcox!" he half stammered and half roared as he backed away.
+"You're talking rot!"</p>
+
+<p>Perry could almost feel sorry for him at that moment. Full of
+hypochondriac fear, inspired by nothing but the slenderest of chances,
+Kerwin was trying to mask his cowardice by a show of scorn.</p>
+
+<p>But Perry could feel sorrier for Lyssa Arthurs. Troubles, she was
+called. And she looked regular, all right.... But why was she hanging
+around with Kerwin?</p>
+
+<p>Now Kerwin made a nervous, jerking sign to his henchmen.</p>
+
+<p>"Come on, boys," he said. "We might as well leave these fools to their
+silly grubbing."</p>
+
+<p>Even the three pug-uglies looked a bit sheepish at the hasty departure
+their boss led them into.</p>
+
+<hr class="tb">
+
+<p>Workmen were grinning and chuckling as Perry turned about, and old Rod
+Murgatroyd's red face was alight with amusement and satisfaction.</p>
+
+<p>"You sure told that ninny where to dump himself, pal," he complimented,
+his blue eyes seeming to twinkle even in the dusk.</p>
+
+<p>Perry's answering smile was brief. He glanced toward the fence, from
+beyond which came the sounds of Kerwin's car speeding away along the
+concrete road.</p>
+
+<p>"Only," Murgatroyd added, sobering, "I don't think we're through with
+our playmate yet, Perry. You've got him doubly sore at us now, for
+making him ridiculous. And he's not so scared that he won't do his
+damnedest to get even—if nothing else. And—glory but it would be
+tough to have him mixing in with something really colossal, wouldn't
+it? What we've got here could be good for all humanity—it could be
+neutral, or it could be bad. We don't know. But good or bad, depend on
+Kerwin to make it the latter, if he gets the chance!"</p>
+
+<p>Perry shrugged ruefully. "Yeah," he said. "That means we've got to
+work quick, Rod. One of us has got to go down there into the bore on
+a cable—find out just what we're up against in that quarter. Then
+there'll still be time to see if we can get digging options on the
+surrounding country—if it turns out to be advisable. Kerwin can't very
+well beat us to that, anyway. Now who'll it be that goes down there
+first?"</p>
+
+<p>Perry Wilcox drew a nickel from his pocket. He flipped it dexterously
+into the air, caught it and slapped it onto the back of his other hand.</p>
+
+<p>"Buffalo!" old Rod called.</p>
+
+<p>Perry raised his palm to reveal a shiny Indian head. "I win," he
+remarked, grinning.</p>
+
+<hr class="chap">
+
+<p class="ph2">CHAPTER II</p>
+
+<p class="ph2">Mystery Below Ground</p>
+
+
+<p>Lights were snapped on in the gathering darkness. Long lengths of
+drill-shaft were pulled out of the boring, whose dark maw hid the
+unknown.</p>
+
+<p>Perry put on a coverall garment of rubberized silk. Over his face he
+fitted an oxygen mask, and to his shoulders he attached several oxygen
+bottles. The air blow, after so many countless ages of stagnation,
+would probably be unbreathable. And though Perry had meant merely to
+unnerve Kerwin when he had mentioned the possibility of some kind of
+contamination, one could not quite be sure. It was best to have one's
+body encased in a sealed garment.</p>
+
+<p>When he had completed his preparations, there was even a small toolkit
+at his hip. Attached to an elbow there was a powerful electric lamp,
+fitted with a long cord by means of which it could draw power from the
+generator here on the surface. And there was a small phone incorporated
+into his headgear. With the phone, like a subsea diver, he could
+maintain communication with Rod and the rest of the crew here above
+ground. And of course he had his motion picture camera—strapped across
+his chest.</p>
+
+<p>With a stout steel cable fastened under his armpits, Perry clambered
+over the edge of the boring, and was lowered below. The trip
+down—nearly three hundred feet—was uneventful. The stillness in the
+narrow shaft, scarcely wider than his shoulders, deepened with the
+depth of his descent. There was only the scraping of his kit against
+the rough walls, and the sleepy trickle of seepage water.</p>
+
+<p>He reached the punctured metal barrier at last, and passed through it.
+Two feet thick, the shell was. A moment later his feet touched a solid
+floor, wet with the water that had dribbled down through the opening.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm here, Rod," Perry called into the phone. "At the bottom."</p>
+
+<p>It was a moment before the older man answered, and in this interval
+Perry heard disquieting sounds from the phones over his ears—sounds
+from the surface, which seemed so infinitely far away to him now.
+Automobile motors racing. Voices in much larger numbers than those of
+the small drill crew. And to Perry Wilcox came a conviction of pending
+trouble.</p>
+
+<p>Then Murgatroyd spoke: "We've got company up here, Perry," he said, a
+note of anxiety in his tone. "A lot of curious people from Brenton.
+Sight-seers rushing to a fire, so to speak. Kerwin couldn't think of
+anything dirtier to do to gum up the works for us, so he spread the
+news around that something was up out here. Naturally I've got a whole
+crowd on my hands. We're trying to keep 'em outside the fence. Of
+course they ought to be harmless enough, really; but damn it, I wish
+they'd go someplace else! What do you see down there?"</p>
+
+<p>Perry had his electric lamp blazing at full now. On his chest, his
+camera, driven by a little spring motor, was turning. And he was
+staring about him intently, to grasp the character of his surroundings.
+He began to talk—to describe what he saw and felt.</p>
+
+<hr class="tb">
+
+<p>"I'm in a passage, Rod," he said. "It slants down. Its alloy walls
+are all bent and crumpled. It must have been the movement of the
+ground through the ages that did that. Gosh, Rod, but you can feel the
+length of eternity here! It's written in these tunnel walls, Rod. The
+way they're bent and rebent. I can understand now why they were made
+of something tough and pliable, like this lead alloy. It's twisted
+everywhere, but unbroken. They—whoever built this place—must have
+known pretty well what they were doing—whatever their purpose was...."</p>
+
+<p>Perry advanced slowly down the slope of the tunnel, cautiously drawing
+his descent cable and his telephone and electric cords after him.</p>
+
+<p>He reached a room of heroic dimensions, walled with the same grey alloy
+as the tunnel. The Stygian gloom that obscured it parted before the
+intense white path of his lamp.</p>
+
+<p>There were tall metal boxes, like packing cases for heavy machinery,
+arranged in rows on the buckled and humped pavement of the
+chamber—metal boxes, each with a closed and perhaps hermetically
+sealed door. And near the farther wall was a machine—an engine or
+something—that displayed a gigantic, dusty fly-wheel. The walls,
+at a head-high level, were covered with something crystalline, like
+glass; though where it had bent it had bent like metal—not shattering
+as a brittle substance would have done. Behind those crystal panes
+were compartments, housing queer, complicated devices. They looked
+a little like astronomical or surveying instruments, Perry thought.
+Were they perhaps instruments for the navigation of interplanetary or
+interstellar space?</p>
+
+<p>Seeing charts traced on the walls above the compartments that protected
+this array of apparatus—charts dotted with winking, diamond-bright
+bits of glass, which must represent scattered suns of the void—he
+was half sure that his guess was right. The charts were marked with
+countless interlocking lines and circles, which might be the geometric
+equivalent of latitude and longitude, applied not to the navigation
+of the ocean, but to the limitless, three-dimensional reaches of the
+cosmos.</p>
+
+<p>This much Perry Wilcox was able to note, before his eager inspection
+was interrupted. In the heavy stillness there was a rustling whisper,
+which penetrated easily the thin, rubberized fabric of his hoodlike
+mask. The sound swiftly built itself up into a regular, soft rhythm.
+Perry spoke a few warning words about this development into his phone,
+and described briefly the room he was in. Meanwhile he stared ahead,
+ready in every taut nerve and muscle to leap out of danger, yet eager
+to see what it was that caused the disturbance.</p>
+
+<p>His lamp beam focused on the engine near the opposite wall. Its
+fly-wheel was turning, maybe after half a billion years of motionless
+waiting in this sealed vault. But why? How?</p>
+
+<p>Perry bounced back a step, icy fingers of dread tickling his flesh. "On
+your marks up there, Rod," he said tensely into his phone. "I can't
+tell what kind of a show it is I've started; but you may have to yank
+me up in a hurry!"</p>
+
+<hr class="tb">
+
+<p>The engine was whizzing now, ancient dust spraying from its fly-wheel.
+For a few seconds there were no more developments, except that Perry
+noticed the decorative frieze around the high, shadowy ceiling.
+Human faces carved in the metal. They smiled down on the young man
+mysteriously.</p>
+
+<p>Then there was a soft clank in the far distance, muffled apparently
+by the turn of many passages, and echoed back and forth by crumpled,
+vaulted ceilings and walls. The sound might have been that of a door
+opening, or the rattling of chains. Perry was beginning to feel very
+much like beating a hasty retreat; but he waited a trifle longer.</p>
+
+<p>There came, then, a ponderous, soft thudding, growing nearer. It wasn't
+till the impression of the sound clicked into a groove in his mind,
+establishing itself as identical with the regular thud-thud of great,
+running, elastic-shod feet, entirely inhuman in their note, that he
+concluded that discretion was the better part of valor.</p>
+
+<p>He had farther to return than he realized. And his electric and
+telephone cords, his hoist cable, hampered him.</p>
+
+<p>"Draw in the slack of my rig," he shouted into his phone. "And for
+Pete's sake, if you love me, set the hoist winch going when I tell you!"</p>
+
+<p>He got beneath the bore that penetrated the tunnel roof okay. But the
+thudding was catching up on him fast. "Up!" he yelled. "Quick!"</p>
+
+<p>It seemed a century before he felt the reassuring tug of the cable
+under his arms. He had a chance to look back once into the Stygian
+darkness that concealed a reawakening and incredible ancientness. There
+a little red light wavered and hurtled nearer.</p>
+
+<p>Perry's feet left the metal pavement. He heard a hiss, like escaping
+steam, just as he was drawn up into the narrow bore. Something clanked
+and scraped beneath him, like claws raking at his retreat. And the
+hissing continued.</p>
+
+<p>He thought he could relax then, a little. But as he was pulled farther
+up the bore he felt heat burning through his rubberized silk coverall.
+It was just a harmless warmth at first, but it increased to a burning
+sensation about his legs. It made him dizzy and sick, and clouded his
+brain.</p>
+
+<p>He heard Rod Murgatroyd yelling at him through the phone: "What's the
+matter, Perry? What's up?" And behind the voice of his friend there
+was the murmur of many other voices. The sightseers from Brenton. They
+didn't have any business being there; but if anything happened—if they
+got hurt—it was his and Rod's fault. Even though Kerwin, or someone
+under Kerwin's orders, had tipped them off for mere malice.</p>
+
+<p>"Back!" Perry yelled. "Order everybody back! When you pull me up, Rod,
+don't touch me without gloves! And breathe cautiously. Gas, I think.
+Some kind of corrosive gas...."</p>
+
+<hr class="tb">
+
+<p>The rest, for a while, was like a bad dream to Wilcox. He became aware
+of stars overhead, and of wind. He was up in the open air once more.
+Nearby, Herkett, one of the drill crew, was swearing at the inquisitive
+onlookers, trying to send them on their way. Some were retreating.
+Others, held by a kind of fascination, still crowded forward against
+the fence, and met Herkett's blasphemous pleas with boos, or ignored
+them with a kind of self-conscious indifference.</p>
+
+<p>Perry was sick with that intense, burning pain in his right leg.
+To keep his senses was a struggle. He heard noises from within the
+Earth—like ragged drumbeats that made the ground shake. Something
+unknown, crescendoing on to a preplanned purpose. Hands touched
+him—Rod's hands, covered with thick gloves. Car headlights flared all
+around in the night, mingling confusingly with the chaos of voices.
+Perry's rubber-silk outer garment was crumbling away from him like
+rotten rags. It had been eaten by a virulently active gaseous chemical,
+all right. Like combustion, the activity had evolved heat. He was still
+alive only because he was wearing an oxygen mask.</p>
+
+<p>He tried to stand, clinging to Rod's shoulders; but the burnt leg,
+which might still put him in danger of death by an unknown chemical
+poison, would not bear his weight. He sank down to one knee while Rod
+tore the remnants of rotted rubber and cloth from his leg, and smeared
+an unguent on the ragged, blistered injury.</p>
+
+<p>"I'll get him to a doctor," someone was saying from very close by. "You
+can't tell. That's apt to be very dangerous. A physician will know
+better what to do."</p>
+
+<p>It wasn't till then that Perry saw who it was that was holding the
+first aid kit. Lyssa Arthurs, the girl who had been with Kerwin and
+his boys. But she'd come back, somehow. Looking up into the confusing
+medley of light and shadow, Perry saw her curly chestnut hair blowing
+in the wind. She looked a little bedraggled, and her lips were pursed
+very tight.</p>
+
+<p>"Okay!" old Rod snapped, for this moment might involve the question
+of life and death for his friend, and there was no time to question
+the connections of this girl, who had been helpful. "Come on, you!" he
+added, grasping Perry's arm. "You're out of action for a while!"</p>
+
+<p>Perry Wilcox was too dazed to think of all the reasons why he didn't
+want to be taken away from the scene of action now, and why he
+didn't want to go with anyone associated with Lyman Kerwin. So his
+stubborn protests were mostly those of a hard man of action, clinging
+obstinately to the habit of wanting to be where things were happening.</p>
+
+<p>"Can't leave, Rod!" he grumbled like a great obstinate, drunken child.
+"Everybody's in danger of—God knows what. Gotta stay with you,
+Rod...." His words were muffled by his mask.</p>
+
+<p>A moment Murgatroyd hesitated, then his balled fist shot out and caught
+Perry on the chin with stunning force.</p>
+
+<p>What he'd seen of Troubles Arthurs in the last few seconds made the
+old scientist like her a lot. But since she was tied up with Kerwin
+someway, he couldn't trust her entirely with the custody of his pal. So
+he said:</p>
+
+<p>"Thanks, kid. Otto, here, will go along to help."</p>
+
+<p>Almost as an afterthought, Rod unsnapped the motion picture camera from
+Perry's chest. Its record of a mystery would be safer in his keeping.</p>
+
+<hr class="tb">
+
+<p>Otto, one of the drill crew, a great, blond bear of a man, picked Perry
+up and followed the girl through the throng to her car. In a moment it
+was speeding away toward Brenton.</p>
+
+<p>But it hadn't gone far before the sounds of a fresh disturbance issued
+from the enclosure it had recently quitted. To the thudding from
+beneath the Earth, was added a droning note, faint but infinitely
+far-reaching. It was like the drone of a solitary electric generator
+in a deserted powerhouse at night. And there was a puffing noise from
+the direction of the enclosure. Voices waxed to screams. First of plain
+terror; then some of them changed to yelps of agony.</p>
+
+<p>The reviving Perry half rose in the back seat of the speeding car. Then
+Otto, with all the good intentions in the world followed Murgatroyd's
+original example, hit Perry on the chin, and told the frightened girl
+up ahead to drive faster.</p>
+
+<p>Meanwhile, safe in a hotel room in Brenton, a man sat at a writing
+table and waited. Lyman Kerwin had just received a phone call. One
+couldn't tell, yet, what was happening. But Kerwin's mind was quick
+and cold and ruthless. And somewhere in all this he saw a lot to his
+advantage—if he played his cards right.</p>
+
+<hr class="chap">
+
+<p class="ph2">CHAPTER III</p>
+
+<p class="ph2">A War Against Machines</p>
+
+
+<p>It was many hours later before the doctors at the Brenton hospital
+knew that Wilcox was out of danger. The gas that had burnt him was a
+little like mustard gas in its action, though more virulent; and it had
+narcotic properties that could function through a burn. With the danger
+from poison past, the injury was small.</p>
+
+<p>But it was still more hours before Wilcox came out of the daze that
+had slipped over him. The immediate cause of his awakening from heavy
+slumber, was the roar of a squadron of airplanes, passing over the
+hospital roof.</p>
+
+<p>He sat up dizzily. In the distance he could hear a muted mutter and
+clank. Then a series of heavy explosions. He looked about, noticing
+only subconsciously that he was in a hospital ward. His gaze settled
+immediately on the nearest window. Weakly he climbed out of bed and
+limped and staggered toward it.</p>
+
+<p>The view extended for miles to the north, across the little city, and
+across the hills and woods and fields beyond. Everything he could see
+had the look of a place in close proximity to the no-man's-land of a
+great war. Lorries, loaded with troops, were moving in the streets.
+Tanks roared. Supply trucks, most of them pulling guns, moved in a
+ragged stream.</p>
+
+<p>Perry's face went haggard and drawn as he looked for the airplanes
+he had heard. Far up, he saw three. Huge bombers in the clear air.
+Clusters of black specks trailed down from them—bombs released from
+the racks. And in the hills beneath there were geysers of flying earth,
+followed by dull concussions.</p>
+
+<p>Then unseen, hurtling vengeance touched each of the planes in
+succession. From somewhere in the sylvan terrain beneath, there were
+three faint pops. A second later, one of the bombers dissolved into a
+silvery cloud—duralumin and steel. It was the same with the other two
+planes. They fell apart as though all the cohesive force of the metals
+from which they were made was suddenly disrupted. The men aboard them
+hadn't a chance.</p>
+
+<p>Perry Wilcox gulped painfully as his eyes searched the wooded hills,
+trying to orient things so that he could tell just where Murgatroyd's
+and his fenced enclosure had been. He couldn't see the fence. It was
+too far off and was hidden by the trees. But he did see a ragged line
+of peculiar upjutting earthworks. It appeared to follow the contour of
+the mounted mystery that he had first observed from the air. Shells
+from man-made cannon splashed against it.</p>
+
+<p>Just for a moment a gleaming colossus reared its hunched bulk behind
+the barrier. It glistened in the late afternoon sunshine as it seemed
+to take a look about; then like a lizard retreating into its hole, it
+slid back, from view. But behind it there were sounds like the working
+of great forges. Columns of smoke puffed up, dyed with the red of
+molten metal.</p>
+
+<p>His attention was attracted to something else. Beyond the partly
+raised window, and across the street, he could hear a radio in one of
+the houses there. He bent forward tautly, straining his ears to listen.
+The voice was unpleasantly familiar:</p>
+
+<p>"The latest newsflashes give us little hope. Our attacking forces
+are being beaten back, or destroyed. But we have great resources. We
+must be brave. The enemy is a strange one. We must amass more men,
+conscript money for war materials. Billions of dollars. That is our
+hope, our one chance. We must have a strong central government. That
+means the absolute leadership of one man. Obedience must be the key. My
+whole resources are at the disposal of the nation. We will triumph! We
+must! The Murgatroyd-Wilcox Horror will thus be destroyed. Be strong,
+friends. Be strong. That is all for now...."</p>
+
+<hr class="tb">
+
+<p>Before the brief, artfully worded speech was half delivered, Perry
+Wilcox knew a good deal of what was spoken between its treacherous
+lines. The rich, semi-hysterical voice, seemingly overflowing with holy
+patriotism, had been unmistakable. Lyman Kerwin. But before Perry had
+time quite to digest this knowledge, someone called from behind him:</p>
+
+<p>"Hey, fella, you're supposed to be in bed!"</p>
+
+<p>Perry swung about, startled, forgetful of his injured leg. He
+confronted cool dark eyes with a quiet, half smiling challenge in them.
+It was Lyssa Arthurs again. Perry was glad to see her for a second,
+then he remembered.</p>
+
+<p>"Well, what do you want?" he blurted sullenly.</p>
+
+<p>"I've signed up for emergency work, and I was put in charge of this
+ward," she responded frankly, making a plain effort to avoid a painful
+clash of personalities.</p>
+
+<p>But Wilcox was in no mood to take the hint. "Yeah?" he grunted. "Well,
+I seem to remember that it was you who brought me here to the hospital.
+For that, thanks! Otherwise, why don't you go hang around Kerwin some
+more? He's ambitious and capable! He can do things for an up and
+coming newspaper woman like you! Why I just heard him make the nicest,
+smuggest little speech you ever could imagine—over the radio. All
+about conscripting more money and men, and putting the country under
+the absolute control of one leader—himself, of course—to fight what
+he calls the Murgatroyd-Wilcox Horror. But I can see through him as
+though he was glass! He controls most of the munitions plants on the
+continent. The money'll go to him!</p>
+
+<p>"But that's penny-pickings! He talks about absolute obedience. Sure!
+With himself as boss! Kerwin talks smooth. There's only one thing I
+can't understand about him. He's as yellow as a hyena. How he can find
+the nerve to talk fight now, is more than I can see!"</p>
+
+<p>The girl regarded Perry coolly, after he had finished. "I'll be kinder
+than you've been to me, Mr. Wilcox," she said at last. "It's the
+privilege of all sincere science to explore the unknown. You and Mr.
+Murgatroyd did just that when you dug into those hills. You had no idea
+what would happen. But the result <i>is</i> your responsibility. As for
+my being with Kerwin—it's not your business, of course, but I may not
+have enjoyed that myself. It happens he owns most of the <i>Brenton
+Herald</i>, for which I work. He asked me to come along with him to
+visit the site of your excavations, and I couldn't very well refuse.
+It happens too, that I didn't tell him that you were digging there, in
+case you're accusing me of that. But there are plenty of sources from
+which he could have gotten information to arouse his curiosity. You
+are well known, and people are curious. But of course all this petty
+explanation of mine can't mean much now."</p>
+
+<p>Perry bit his lip, feeling briefly sorry that he'd openly connected
+Lyssa Arthurs with the Kerwin outfit. But he was by no means ready to
+trust her either.</p>
+
+<p>The rumble of shells, exploding miles off, beat into his mind. There
+was a mysterious hiss, followed by the screams of dying men. Perry
+winced. It was logical of course that soldiers should be sent to attack
+whatever it was out there; but he was sure that Kerwin must have some
+special knowledge about the enigma up his sleeve, or else he'd never
+have the guts to be delivering radio lectures that didn't say anything
+about running away.</p>
+
+<p>"I don't know enough!" he groaned aloud. "I was put out of action too
+quick to see just what took place at the excavation. I can't judge—"</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly he grasped the girl by the shoulders. "Where's Murgatroyd?" he
+grated. "Does anybody know?"</p>
+
+<p>Troubles Arthurs stayed cool, in spite of his fury. "Why yes," she
+said. "He's here." She nodded toward a hospital bed against the wall.</p>
+
+<hr class="tb">
+
+<p>Perry staggered toward the inert form which lay there. Rod, his head
+swathed in bandages, was completely unrecognizable. His features were
+covered.</p>
+
+<p>"Gas, same as hit me?" Wilcox asked the girl.</p>
+
+<p>"No," she whispered. "Some kind of beam of concentrated heat waves.
+It's his eyes, mostly."</p>
+
+<p>"How long was he out there?" Perry questioned. "What I mean is, how
+long did he stay in action before he got hurt?"</p>
+
+<p>"About two hours, I think," the girl responded. "He helped with the
+first civilian wounded, managing to stay clear of the gas himself.
+There was an explosion afterward. And out of the hole blown in the
+ground the machines—they're like strange robots—began to emerge. That
+was at ten o'clock the night before last. Mr. Murgatroyd was brought in
+at eleven o'clock, so he must have been active for half an hour after
+the explosion."</p>
+
+<p>Perry had heard enough. He bent over the bed of his friend and touched
+his shoulder. "Hey, Rod!" he called. "Hey, this is Perry! Wake up, you
+old son-of-a-gun!" Perry's vision was misted.</p>
+
+<p>Murgatroyd groaned and stirred. When he spoke, however, he seemed
+lucid, his mind clearing after the long siege of unconsciousness,
+caused by his head injury. "Hello, fella," he muttered, turning his
+face toward the sound of Perry's voice as though trying to peer through
+the bandages that covered his damaged eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"Rod," the young man whispered. "I want you to concentrate—try to
+remember. We've got a big job that's our personal concern. But it's
+more than that. It's a danger concerning the whole country—maybe
+the whole world. Just what kind of an enemy is out there, Rod? Those
+robots. What are they? Is anybody controlling them? Or do they think
+for themselves? Do you know anything about them, Rod? Anything at all?"</p>
+
+<p>The old Scotch-American's lips moved, almost hidden in the swathing of
+cloth. "I guess it should—be all right," he said at last. "I guess
+it's kind of—funny. Machines—think? Some might, but these—don't.
+They can do things—perfectly. Like a machine that rifles a gun barrel
+or predicts the tides. They're made that way. But these robots are just
+refined machines—acting almost human, sure! They'd almost fool you.</p>
+
+<p>"They see, they hear—in a way. They come toward you, aiming and firing
+explosive slugs, or sending out beams of concentrated heat. But we
+stopped a few of those robots with shells. Just adding-machine stuff
+inside, Perry. Cams and rods and wires, like our inventors would build,
+only a lot more wonderful and complicated. No soul could be in that,
+Perry. No real consciousness. No ambition....</p>
+
+<p>"Professor Vince had the wrecks hauled off—copped them for
+examination. I guess he knows a lot now, Perry. He tried to talk me
+into giving him your camera, with the pictures you took down in the
+bore, too, Perry. But I sent the camera to the rear with one of our
+men....</p>
+
+<p>"As for the robots, they may be under some kind of centralized radio
+control, of course. But even that can't be—real brains. It hasn't
+the judgment. Any little trick, like stepping out of the path of an
+automaton chasing you, and staying perfectly still, fools 'em. They go
+right on past you. And you can pull the same stunt again and again. But
+they're still hellish."</p>
+
+<p>Old Rod paused, panting with the effort of his long explanation. Then
+he went on: "So that means—there's nobody at the helm, Perry. The
+whole business just goes on by itself. And it <i>is</i> pretty awe
+inspiring and wonderful at that—so damned wonderful you'd want to
+cheer, if it wasn't so deadly—when a bunch of men makes an attack
+against it. The thing to do is not to attack, anyway for a few days.
+We'd learn more, then. Those robots are guardians of some kind, Perry.
+It's a hunch of mine...."</p>
+
+<p>Suddenly the old man half rose in the bed, as if the expressing of his
+own thoughts had startled him. "That's the whole crazy irony of the
+situation, Perry!" he cried. "Men out there, dying—and on the other
+side—potential progress, inspiration, miracles! The key to a new era!
+We've got to do something—Perry—now!"</p>
+
+<p>For a second Roderick Murgatroyd looked like a magnificent, blinded
+seer. Then he dropped back onto the bed, fainting into a coma of
+fatigue. Perry touched the old man's hand with a brief pressure of
+comradeship.</p>
+
+<p>But at the same moment Wilcox was thinking fast to correlate his
+new information. Rod had spoken of Professor Vince. Vince, a shy,
+moon-faced little man, was a noted professor of physics at Kerwin
+University. Vince, then, was one of Lyman Kerwin's stooges. What Vince
+learned from examining the wrecked automatons, Kerwin would promptly
+find out. Perry was sure he understood the setup at last.</p>
+
+<p><i>Kerwin knew, somehow, that what he called the Murgatroyd-Wilcox
+Horror was of little danger to himself, if he kept out of the battle
+zone! He was only using it as a means to his own ends. Power. Complete
+control of the nation. Free access to the inventions this marvelous
+archeological discovery might reveal!</i></p>
+
+<p>It was all too clear.</p>
+
+<hr class="tb">
+
+<p>Instantly Perry's plan was formulated. His injury was really
+superficial, now that the effect of the poison was gone. Exertion
+would work the stiffness out of his leg. But he glanced in frustrated
+exasperation at the pajamas he was wearing. A second later he was
+tugging at the door of the closet in the corner of the ward.</p>
+
+<p>"Doggone! Where's my rig?" he was grumbling, as he clawed at the piled
+contents of the closet—mostly clothing of the wounded that had not
+been damaged by corrosive gas or heat.</p>
+
+<p>He found his oxygen mask and tanks at last. Quite indiscriminately he
+seized a shirt and a pair of trousers, and yanked them on over his
+pajamas. Shoes were similarly selected and donned. Then he hurried
+toward the door of the room.</p>
+
+<p>Lyssa Arthurs barred his way here, her lips firm though smiling. Her
+dark eyes had a roguish glint that admired and challenged. She looked
+like a courageous small boy standing up for his rights, that way, Perry
+thought with a strange pang.</p>
+
+<p>"I'm responsible for the patients in this ward," she said pertly.
+"Where do you think <i>you're</i> going, Mister?"</p>
+
+<p>Perry shoved her unceremoniously aside. "Places," he grunted almost
+good-humoredly. "You said before that I had responsibilities."</p>
+
+<p>He rushed down the hall. In thirty seconds he was out in the street,
+with the bustle of behind-the-lines activity around him. He dodged
+ahead of trucks and tanks on his way to the river.</p>
+
+<p>Once, from a radio in a house he passed, he heard the rich, high voice
+of Lyman Kerwin, exhorting, commanding, praising himself in subtle
+terms, using fear as a means to power:</p>
+
+<p>"All my resources are at the disposal of the nation to combat the
+Murgatroyd-Wilcox Horror. The response has been good to our appeal for
+money. But it must be better. Better! We are pitted against something
+incredible—something that possesses many unknown weapons. The women
+and children of America must be protected...."</p>
+
+<p>Perry Wilcox growled. And almost simultaneously a youth hurled a rock
+at him, shouting: "There he is! There's Wilcox, one of the two mugs who
+started all the trouble!"</p>
+
+<p>A gang was after Perry then, pelting stones; and he knew that Kerwin's
+propaganda had already achieved a very considerable success.</p>
+
+<p>But he didn't stop to argue. He just ran on, limping a little. He
+reached the powerhouse dam. There he paused briefly to don his oxygen
+mask and tanks. Then he leaped into the swirling water, and sank into
+its concealing depths. He didn't try really to swim. He made only a few
+strokes to keep himself righted, and safely beneath the surface. The
+current was swift, and it flowed in the proper direction. He had air to
+breathe. There was nothing much to do but wait.</p>
+
+<p>Dusk began to settle. Perry heard guns on the banks of the stream, and
+shouts and cries, as he drifted invisible through the human battle
+lines. Presently, looking through the goggles of his air-tight oxygen
+mask, he saw light around him, then darkness, then light again. It was
+the regular play of a great searchbeam from up there on the hills. And
+there were noises too, now loud and near. At least he'd come this far
+without being detected.</p>
+
+<p>Clinging to a rock of the river bottom, he waited a little till it got
+darker. Then, still being careful to keep well beneath the surface of
+the water, he swam toward the shore.</p>
+
+<hr class="tb">
+
+<p>He came up in the reeds at the river's edge, and peered cautiously
+toward the low bluffs. He had to duck his head again, before he saw
+anything but humping, moving shapes, and part of a great, half-restored
+battlement; for the search beam, swinging majestically and regularly
+back and forth, swept blindingly toward him.</p>
+
+<p>But there were regular intervals between each successive blaze of
+light; and these allowed him to observe. Little, gleaming robots,
+walking like human beings on broad, elastic-shod feet, and provided
+with metal arms, were rebuilding the battlemented wall with limestone
+quarried from the hillside. They worked with perfect efficiency,
+raising blocks into place, and applying a kind of mortar with
+spatulate-ended arms. But their movements for each operation were
+always identical, betraying not intellect but standardized mechanical
+perfection.</p>
+
+<p>And it was the same with the other machines and weapons. A gun—it
+didn't look so very different from a familiar artillery piece, except
+for its complex breech-loading mechanism, fired intermittently, without
+any crew to operate it. Watching, Perry concluded that its sighting and
+firing apparatus must be stimulated by certain sounds, movements, and
+lights, out there where the soldiers were entrenched. For when he heard
+a shout from the rear, or saw a cannon flash, or troops advancing from
+the trenches, there was always a volley of small, screaming shells, the
+latter directed with a precise, cold accuracy, that must depend on the
+spiritless exactness of instruments. And the result was massacre.</p>
+
+<p>Heat beam projectors, lensed boxes in their webwork supports, seemed to
+operate under the same kinds of stimuli, turning their faint, barely
+visible spears of heatwaves toward sudden light, noise, or movement.
+Searchlights swept the sky, probably drawn by motor sounds. And if they
+located a plane, the movement of its light-enveloped form was enough to
+attract the high-angling muzzles of slender guns that fired with soft
+pops, but reduced duralumin to powder. The aiming was always perfect.</p>
+
+<p>When the search beam was turned away from him, Perry got cautiously out
+of the water and dashed for the nearest bush. He crouched behind it,
+as the beam swept past him like a great eye. Then higher, to another
+bush. And so he advanced. Once, because he stumbled, he was caught in
+the open; but he threw himself flat and waited, cursing his clumsiness.
+But the blazing glare passed him, and no blasting death followed.
+Perhaps camera eyes had photographed his inert form; but mechanical,
+adding-machine brains had not enough reasoning powers to recognize
+him as an interloper, as long as he did not move. Perry breathed with
+relief, and continued his intermittent climb at each brief moment of
+darkness.</p>
+
+<p>Near the top, however, it didn't look so simple. He was hiding in a
+clump of tall weeds, face to face with those guns—and nobody knew
+what other deadly devices. He was stumped as to how he should try to
+advance further. Make a rush? There was a pretty good chance of getting
+past the guns that way, as far as he could tell by visual inspection;
+but surely there'd be something there, in the narrow gaps between the
+guns—something to kill him, or at least detect his presence! It made
+his flesh crawl; but need gave his wits a sharper edge. He had to get
+through, somehow!</p>
+
+<p>He searched the line of fantastic, flame-spewing weapons avidly. A
+hundred yards away there was a small break in it, where an aerial bomb,
+dropped by one of the planes, had struck. The crater still smoked
+with the vapors of the explosive. If there was any detecting device
+there, any taut-stretched wire, or anything that would bring some death
+machine into play at his accidental touch, it would be shattered, now,
+and still unrepaired.</p>
+
+<p>Scrambling from bush to bush during intervals of darkness, as before,
+he got to the break in the line, and through it safely. Thus, he looked
+at last over the hilltops, and down into the area enclosed by that
+great, mounded rectangle.</p>
+
+<p>It was a queer, contrasting scene. Familiar farm buildings stood out in
+the weird illumination. But everywhere there were mounds of earth and
+deep pits. From some of the latter, red-lit smoke trailed up toward the
+stars. Massive things, not unlike army tanks, moved in circles, as if
+pacing beats, and there was the muffled clang of what could be buried
+factories. The old fortress had come to life once more, resurrecting
+itself from its bed of Carboniferous slumber. It was a camp, bristling
+with strange armaments and bustling with activity.</p>
+
+<hr class="chap">
+
+<p class="ph2">CHAPTER IV</p>
+
+<p class="ph2">Into the Robot's Lair</p>
+
+
+<p>Perry lay prone in the high grass. He was panting and tired, and he
+felt a little sick again. He knew that whatever chances he had of
+accomplishing any good here, would be diminished if he waited. There
+were dozens of ways of getting uselessly killed. So far he hadn't
+encountered any of that corrosive gas, but hisses, and distant human
+screams from the flats along the river, told him that it was being
+used. And though he had his oxygen mask, his clothing and skin could be
+eaten away and his blood poisoned. Two bombers burst overhead, their
+powdered wreckage silvery in paths of searchlights. Perry knew he might
+even be destroyed by the weapons of his own countrymen.</p>
+
+<hr class="chap">
+
+<div class="figcenter">
+  <img src="images/illus.jpg" alt="">
+  <div class="caption">
+    <p>Wilcox slipped stealthily past the great robot gun.</p>
+  </div>
+</div>
+
+<hr class="chap">
+
+<p>So his gaze settled feverishly on the nearest opening in the ground. It
+wasn't far away, and its depths were lost in darkness. But twice he saw
+crawling mechanical things emerge from it. It must lead, then, toward
+the heart of the mystery he was trying to probe.</p>
+
+<p>At the next opportunity, he made a dash for the pit. He lost his
+balance in the loose soil at its edge, and tumbled to its bottom. But
+except for a few scratches, he was unhurt. He picked himself up and
+hurried down a steep passage. Except for lights far ahead, it was dark
+as Erebus. But he advanced as rapidly as he could, his purpose only to
+explore, and to take advantage of opportunity, if it came.</p>
+
+<p>Once he heard the growl of machinery, as a great crawling automaton
+came down the passage, moving in his direction. The headlamp threw him
+into full view. And there was no place to hide. But remembering what
+Rod Murgatroyd had told him about these automatons, and making use,
+too, of his own experience with them, Perry flung himself against the
+crumpled alloy wall and froze rigid as stone, his heart thumping madly.</p>
+
+<p>The robot stopped. Its mechanical eyes must have seen his movement.
+Perhaps the delicate maze of wheels and cams and instruments, which was
+all it had for a brain, had responded to the stimulus of his moving
+form, and was forced, by the way it was planned and built, to wait and
+search for other evidence of a hostile presence. But finding none, the
+robot whirred on. As it passed Perry, he felt the heat of its driving
+mechanism. Through a quartz glazed spyhole in its flank, he saw a
+white, blazing globe within it—perhaps a mass of material throwing off
+atomic energy.</p>
+
+<p>Perry's lips, sweat-daubed behind his mask, curved in a haggard smile
+at his oddly miraculous escape. He continued on his way.</p>
+
+<p>He had an odd, tense idea of being followed by something that was not
+quite mechanical. Behind him, in the darkness, and even above the
+confined din of the factories, he thought he heard, now and then, the
+patter and slither of footsteps.</p>
+
+<p>And so he hurried on, along the main tunnel, reaching at last a faintly
+lighted, circular compartment.</p>
+
+<p>In the center of the room a vat, a hundred and fifty feet across, was
+sunk into the floor. Its cone-shaped interior was full of a greenish
+liquid, and was covered over by an immense sealing disk of glass. There
+were grids, like colossal battery plates, in the liquid. Bus-bars,
+penetrating beneath the sealed edges of the glass disk, attached the
+grids to an apparatus standing at the vat's circular rim. The apparatus
+resembled an electrical transformer.</p>
+
+<p>Just for a moment Perry was able to look. Then the light in the chamber
+began to fade.</p>
+
+<p>There came a rattle of opening doors as the light died completely. He
+tried to hold perfectly still, as he heard the soft, heavy footfalls of
+great robot-guardians released. He should be able to fool them too, by
+keeping perfectly quiet.</p>
+
+<p>Now, again, he heard those lighter footfalls, that had seemed to be
+following him. They advanced to the entrance of the chamber. Instantly
+there was an answering rush of elastic-shod feet. And then a woman's
+scream!</p>
+
+<p>Perry was petrified for a moment of utter consternation. Then he rushed
+toward the sound of the scuffle there in the weird dark. The slithering
+of his own feet betrayed him. There was a clanking rush in the gloom.
+Cold metal claws closed firmly about his shoulders. He struggled. The
+oxygen mask was scraped from his face. But the gripping members held
+him firm at last, and he desisted in his futile efforts to escape.</p>
+
+<p>"Who's there?" he growled, panting.</p>
+
+<p>"It's me—Troubles," came the answer, half sobbing.</p>
+
+<p>Perry Wilcox was stunned. "How did <i>you</i> get here?"</p>
+
+<p>"Same way you did," the girl choked. "When you ran away from the
+hospital, I sent an orderly to follow you, and bring you back. He
+didn't get to you; but he saw you dive off the dam with the oxygen mask
+on. When he told me, I guessed right away what you were trying to do.
+So—I got leave, found myself a mask in the operating room, and—tagged
+after you."</p>
+
+<p>"In the name of sense, <i>what for</i>?" Perry demanded.</p>
+
+<p>"For a lot of good reasons—Mister!" she said more decisively. "I used
+to be an ambitious newspaper woman, for one thing—always hunting up
+trouble and hoping for a scoop. You can believe it's that way, if you
+want to. Or you can believe that I'm the little girl that used to keep
+clippings of all the Wilcox-Murgatroyd exploits, and that you're still
+my hero—if you're conceited and crazy enough. I don't care!"</p>
+
+<p>It was a torrent of words that would have startled Perry Wilcox if he
+wasn't so amazed already, here in this dark hole of a place, with metal
+monsters clutching him.</p>
+
+<p>"Okay—Troubles," he stammered.</p>
+
+<p>The robots restraining him were motionless. Nearby there were hollow
+clankings. Trying to catch the significance of the sounds, Perry was
+sure that the cover of the great vat was being raised. Cold prickles
+raced over his body. What was it that would happen now?</p>
+
+<p>Lyssa Arthurs was talking again, out of the dark. "Perry," she said
+more gently, though just as intensely as before. "Just when I started
+out it came over the radio that Kerwin was appointed Provisional
+Director of Defense. And—and there's danger that the hospital will be
+stormed by a mob—to get Murgatroyd."</p>
+
+<p>Before he could answer, Perry felt his feet hoisted from the floor.
+He was swung in metal arms, then tossed free. He flew through the air.
+Warm fluid closed about him. It was like water, only it stung his
+flesh—made his nerve-ends numb.</p>
+
+<p>He heard the girl give a startled, involuntary cry, as she too splashed
+into the strangely energized fluid in the great vat. Automatically he
+tried to swim toward her; but the numbness was quickly creeping over
+his nerves and muscles. He could hardly move.</p>
+
+<p>His voice was hoarse with half paralysis when he choked: "Keep your
+courage, Troubles...."</p>
+
+<p>Perry's head went beneath the fluid. His brain was spinning. He thought
+he heard a click of switches being turned on. The numbness increased
+suddenly, like a jolt of electricity. But he managed to hold his
+breath. He had a curious sensation of shrinking, of being pressed
+together.</p>
+
+<hr class="tb">
+
+<p>He emerged at last from unconsciousness, knowing at least that he was
+alive. He was coughing, as though his lungs had been partly full of
+fluid. His head ached intolerably, and his heart was laboring like a
+rusty engine.</p>
+
+<p>He sat up on the wet surface on which he sprawled, and tried to look
+about. His vision was blurred at first, and he squinted to focus his
+eyes. He looked around a square room, one end of which was open. Its
+walls were like rough, black glass. Behind him was a dark opening,
+like a door, from which, judging from the wetness around him, he had
+recently been ejected, along with a considerable quantity of fluid.</p>
+
+<p>He saw the girl, Lyssa Arthurs, sprawled beside him. Worriedly, Perry
+scrambled over to her. She was still unconscious, though breathing
+raggedly. Her rubber oxygen mask was intact, except for the metal
+and glass parts, which were curiously pitted and malformed. By some
+unknown transformation the oxygen tanks strapped to her shoulders, were
+similarly distorted and useless. They were full of holes, and had lost
+their compressed content. Perry had parted with his mask during his
+scuffle with the robots, and now his tanks had broken loose from his
+shoulders somewhere too. He noticed that even the metal buttons of his
+shirt were rough and out of shape.</p>
+
+<p>He ripped the useless, ill-fitting mask from Troubles' face, unfastened
+the crooked buckles that held the oxygen flasks in place, and applied
+artificial respiration.</p>
+
+<p>Meanwhile he searched his surroundings. What had been done to Troubles
+and himself, and where had they been taken? He looked again toward
+the open end of the compartment. Beyond was a gigantic, beautiful
+cavern, apparently many miles in extent. It was walled with coarse,
+jagged glass. Through a system of lenses in its azure roof, light was
+streaming down. It must be artificial, but it was just about like
+reddish sunlight. The floor of the cavern was like a beautiful, wild
+valley, crowded with strange, exotic trees and plants; and white
+buildings peeped through the foliage.</p>
+
+<p>What had happened looked almost simple to Perry Wilcox then. He and
+Troubles had merely passed down through the vat, to a vast, habitable,
+artificially excavated cavern below. But he couldn't accept this
+idea, somehow. It was <i>too</i> simple. And there was an elusive
+strangeness, disquieting and hard to identify, about everything he saw
+and felt. It was more than just the oddity of the vegetation and the
+buildings.</p>
+
+<p>After a minute, Lyssa Arthurs sighed and tried to rise. She looked
+about, confusedly. "Where are we?" she demanded.</p>
+
+<p>"Your guess is as good as mine, Troubles," Perry returned, awedly. "But
+we must be at the final center of things—at the place the robots up
+there were meant to guard. Whatever that may be."</p>
+
+<p>They rested several minutes, not saying much. Then Troubles arose
+shakily. "Come on. Let's explore, fella," she urged.</p>
+
+<p>Perry supported her unsteady steps as they walked out of the open-ended
+chamber. The ground around them was covered with a kind of coarse,
+shaggy moss. Trees, formed like oversized bushes, reared up over them,
+bearing strange fruits. The light which came from above, was warm, like
+sunshine.</p>
+
+<p>"Kind of like a heaven here, isn't it?" the girl asked.</p>
+
+<p>Perry grinned, though his head still ached. "What are you trying to do,
+pull my leg?—talking that kind of bunk!" he growled.</p>
+
+<p>"Only it's so still and deserted-looking," Lyssa went on. "There's not
+a path anywhere. And look! That building!"</p>
+
+<p>They had passed through a grove. Near them was a long structure of
+white stone. But it was like a ruin. Its rows of windows, with their
+carved decorations, some of them human figures, were sightless and
+empty, except for intruding masses of coarse, vinelike plants. Once,
+from its appearance, the building might have been a gigantic apartment
+house, teeming with inhabitants. And there were others like it, near,
+and far off on the high slopes of the cavern. But all had that same
+tenantless aspect.</p>
+
+<hr class="tb">
+
+<p>Perry and Troubles were moving along a street of what might have been a
+village. At the farther end of the street was a domed edifice of glass
+of different colors.</p>
+
+<p>And at the crest of the dome, standing firmly on a stubby cylinder
+which was evidently meant to represent some sort of ship, was the
+golden figure of a man, clad in flowing robes. The face of the colossus
+was stern and kindly as he stared off into the distance as if somewhere
+there he watched for the realization of a hope. The great staff he
+clutched, rested on his pedestal and rose straight upward to join with
+the roof of the cavern, above.</p>
+
+<p>There was a steep stairway leading down to the sunken grounds of the
+domed edifice. Lyssa, hurrying ahead on still unsteady legs, and
+looking up too intently at the golden image above, lost her balance and
+pitched forward on the steep slant. She tumbled the full length of it.
+Perry gave a shout of concern and leaped after her, sure that she must
+have at least broken some bones.</p>
+
+<p>But she got up quite nimbly and promptly. "Stumble bum!" she muttered,
+frowning. And then in a new and different kind of tone: "Perry—that
+was funny, wasn't it? I'm not hurt at all!" There was wonder in her
+dark eyes.</p>
+
+<p>He was puffing with relief, but was startled, too. "Yeah, I see!" he
+said. "It's stranger than the desertion, here. I landed light myself.
+It was as though the air was holding me back—partly. As though it has
+a higher resistance, or something! But that's looney!"</p>
+
+<p>They walked into the temple. The atmosphere there was cool and moist.
+Glass pillars, spiral in form, loomed in the shadows. Lyssa and Perry
+looked around intently, as if searching for the answer to a riddle.</p>
+
+<p>In an indented portion of the blue grass floor, there was a cluster
+of spherical globes, crystal clear. They were maybe three inches in
+diameter.</p>
+
+<p>Idly, yet with an odd and very significant thought lurking in the
+back of her mind, Lyssa kicked at one of the globes with her rough
+shoe. Immediately it broke, coalescing liquidly with several of its
+neighbors to form a slightly flattened ovoid. It was like a huge drop
+of quicksilver in shape.</p>
+
+<p>Lyssa was thinking deeply, but then Perry got her off the track. "Look,
+Troubles!" he shouted. "The air resistance really is higher here!"</p>
+
+<p>She turned her eyes toward where he pointed. Light shafted into the
+room through the high, arching entrance. Surrounding semi-darkness
+brought out the phenomenon plainly. Motes were floating in the path of
+the light. And long, fibrous things, like lint. Only the motes were as
+large as grains of sand, and the crooked strings of lint were as thick
+as lead pencils!</p>
+
+<p>"The air resistance would have to be higher, or the rate of its
+molecular motion and bombardment would have to be a lot swifter than
+usual, to support such big particles," said Perry. "But how can that
+be? It seems the same old familiar air!" He halted, a startled scowl
+crinkling his sunbleached eyebrows. "Say!" he drawled at last, mounting
+incredulity in his tone. "Say!..."</p>
+
+<hr class="tb">
+
+<p>Sensing that he was at the last barrier of the riddle that had begun
+with his discovery of the great triangular outline in Minnesota hills,
+he studied the glass walls around him. In the depths of their colored
+substance, he could see large bubbles, and flaws of exaggerated size.
+Then his gaze fell on the liquid, globular things that Troubles had
+kicked. They looked exactly as though it was ordinary water that
+composed them—as though they were dewdrops—except for their huge
+dimensions.</p>
+
+<p>"That's the funny thing we noticed, but couldn't quite place," Lyssa
+offered. "That dew. That dust in the air. The flaws in glass. Such
+stuff is all bigger than it should be, Perry. But what does that mean?"</p>
+
+<p>Perry was thinking as fast and as hard as he could, then, trying to
+put together all the puzzling pieces of his recent experience. Most
+significant was the odd, tightening, <i>shrinking</i> sensation, he had
+felt, after the automatons had tossed him into the vat of liquid.</p>
+
+<p>"Troubles," he said very slowly. "I—think—I've—got—it!
+<i>We've—been—reduced—in—size!</i> We're Lilliputians, maybe an
+inch high, now! This cavern isn't the huge thing it seems to us.
+Comparatively, it's a toy cavern. The buildings are toy buildings;
+though they naturally seem gigantic to us, because we're so small too.
+But dew and dust, relying on universal physical laws of nature, remain
+normally—big!"</p>
+
+<p>"But, Perry," she asked in the same awed tone he had used. "Is that
+possible—that we've been shrunken, and still remain alive afterward?"</p>
+
+<p>"Why not?" he questioned in response. "Everything is practically the
+same—really—just scaled down.<a id="FNanchor_1" href="#Footnote_1" class="fnanchor">[1]</a> Every cell in our bodies must have
+been correspondingly shrunken, of course, so that there are as many
+cells now as in the beginning. Otherwise we wouldn't be—ourselves. If
+there weren't somewhere near the normal number of grey cells in our
+brains, for instance, we'd lose our reasoning powers.</p>
+
+<p>"We were thrown into the vat. Energy worked on us, drawing substance
+away from each living cell—fat, protein, sugar, water—and the
+cell-walls shrank, and we shrank with them. Our excess body substance
+was perhaps absorbed by the green fluid, maybe being preserved for a
+reversal of the process—a return to normal size. Only judging from
+what happened to our metal buttons and things, the trick doesn't work
+out very well for inorganic substances."</p>
+
+<p>Perry halted, recalling something significant. "Remember how you fell
+down those stairs up there, without being hurt at all, Troubles?" he
+questioned. "That you weren't hurt is part of the relativity of being
+small. Take a mouse and drop him from a high place, and his injury
+doesn't amount to much. Drop a man from the same height, and he gets
+all smashed up."<a id="FNanchor_2" href="#Footnote_2" class="fnanchor">[2]</a></p>
+
+<p>Lyssa Arthurs seemed to muse for a moment. "Yes," she said. "I see....
+Whoever built the fortress must have built this miniature cavern before
+they reduced their size, since this building is constructed all in one
+piece, and not of blocks cemented together. And you wouldn't expect
+little people to do that very readily. Then they came down through the
+vat apparatus. But why, Perry? Why did they want to be small? What
+advantage was there in it? Who were they?"</p>
+
+<hr class="tb">
+
+<p>Overhead, in the arching dome, Perry Wilcox noticed a picture. An ocean
+washing a jagged shore. It looked just like a modern ocean. Only, in
+the gorges between the jagged volcanic bluffs, there were bizarre,
+fernlike trees, such as had existed in the Terrestrial Carboniferous
+Period.</p>
+
+<p>"I think," he said, "these people came from another planet. That ship
+looks like a space ship."</p>
+
+<p>"Do you really think so?"</p>
+
+<p>"Yes, and it was a tough world for a raw bunch of colonists," Perry
+went on. "So it was probably easier for them to make a small world
+of their own. One they thought they could regulate and control.
+Only—there was something wrong with it. That's why they're extinct."</p>
+
+<p>"I guess you're right, Perry," the girl offered. "They built the
+fortress. It was their first encampment, within which they could make
+their preparations. Then, when they were ready to become small, they
+covered it over to hide it. The automatons were sealed up, with special
+apparatus to make them active—if there was danger—if some snooper
+came around. For instance you, Perry. Our being sent down here, was
+part of the plan too—captives or guests. Only the little people who
+were supposed to receive us, have disappeared."</p>
+
+<p>It was obviously true. The valley of the cavern looked deserted to its
+farthest, verdure-clad reaches. The buildings, peeping white through
+the green, were skeletally silent. There was no sound.</p>
+
+<p>The desolation got on Perry Wilcox's nerves. The vast futility of the
+mechanical debacle going on above. A dream that had soured. A science
+of miracles that had followed a Will-o'-the-Wisp to a dead end. And
+then Perry thought of something that changed his mood.</p>
+
+<p>"They must have had a way to control the robots from here, Troubles,"
+he said. "Everything else is too perfectly arranged for it to be
+otherwise. They wouldn't just lock themselves down here, blind to
+the upper world, would they? There must be a control room somewhere.
+And logically it should be in this building, since it's the most
+important-appearing one in the place."</p>
+
+<hr class="chap">
+
+<p class="ph2">CHAPTER V</p>
+
+<p class="ph2">Nemesis from the Tiny</p>
+
+
+<p>Perry and Lyssa found what they were searching for at last, after
+climbing a long, spiral stairs. The chamber was round, and was above
+the dome of the temple, just beneath the representation of the space
+ship and the golden statue of that ancient leader. The disk-shaped door
+was fastened by a great hasp that was disengaged easily.</p>
+
+<p>Wheels, meters, switches, charts. Never before had Perry Wilcox seen
+such a staggering array. His heart sank. Could he ever master such a
+complex arrangement in time to do any good—to stop the robots and
+that vast, senseless conflict above? He tugged at one wheel. It turned
+a very little, and a meter needle nearby jumped, showing that the
+apparatus was still effective. But there the wheel stuck. It was locked
+by a slight film of corrosion. Though things in this control room were
+marvelously preserved, considering their titanic age, they had not been
+protected by a time-defying vacuum.</p>
+
+<p>Perry's face went sober and tired. "Even if these are the right
+controls," he said, "it would take me a week and a lot of oil and
+brain work to loosen 'em up and figure 'em out so I could turn off hell
+up above."</p>
+
+<p>Then his gaze centered on a mirror nearby. It was part of a periscope
+arrangement which evidently communicated with the surface, its upper
+end cleared of encumbering earth by the robots.</p>
+
+<p>In the mirror was visible the slope of a hill, bright in after noon
+sunshine. A solid array of army tanks were creeping up it laboriously.
+Behind them, guns blazed. But down upon those attackers was pouring a
+hail of death—of sharper, more violent explosions—that wiped out two
+and three of the tanks at a time. Beyond, the plain was being filled
+with a miasmic fog of death—corrosive gas. Still, the tanks came on,
+each with its load of brave young men. Wave on wave, to destruction.</p>
+
+<p>Perry stood watching for several moments. Viewed from the distance, the
+tanks looked hardly bigger than they would have, had he been normal
+size. His position was sort of a joke. He was standing where a general
+from another planet should have stood while directing his guardian
+robot army. But he was helpless.</p>
+
+<p>"Kerwin is still at it," Perry remarked at last, his voice so
+matter-of-fact that it was startling.</p>
+
+<p>He was thinking bitterly of many things. Of the way plans were made,
+hopefully, till they became faith. And then the disillusion of
+miscarried results—of fact. Like this buried utopia. Its creators
+had worked for its realization. They had achieved it, but they had
+vanished. Like himself, and like Rod Murgatroyd. Rod, blinded, but
+talking with hollow magnificence, of a strange heritage. Path of
+Progress. The inspiration of a more ancient science to spur mankind on.
+Oh, it sounded good, but it was all—screwy!</p>
+
+<p>Wilcox blew up at last. "With Kerwin in control, Rod's probably already
+dead—lynched by a mob!" he said. "And here we are, down here, a couple
+of helpless peewees! I suppose we could go back to normal size—back
+the same way we came here. There are controls there in the entrance
+chamber. But what good would that do? We'd still be peewees!"</p>
+
+<p>But Troubles was of a somewhat different attitude. "Maybe inch-high
+peewees like us have advantages at that," she said significantly.
+"Look, fella."</p>
+
+<p>She was pointing to a slender, graceful object that rested in a metal
+frame over their heads. It was very like an airplane, with short,
+stubby wings. But instead of propellers it had rocket nozzles. Wheels
+on its bottom, clung to a helical guide rail that spiraled upward
+inside a great, vertical tube that must find its way to the surface
+somewhere. Apparently the tube was the inside of the staff held by the
+golden colossus above. And the staff penetrated the cavern's roof.</p>
+
+<p>"Naturally, being as advanced in science as they were, those old people
+would keep something to get about with, wouldn't they?" Troubles
+questioned, as she climbed up the ladder to the craft's cabin entrance.</p>
+
+<hr class="tb">
+
+<p>Opening the door was a difficult thing; but Perry bounded up the rungs
+and was helping her. He was ready to take his chances too, in spite of
+his talk.</p>
+
+<p>The door opened under the hammering pressure of his calloused palm.
+There was space inside for two or three people to lie prone. The
+controls were not unfamiliar. There was a joystick, and a second lever
+which must take the place of rudder pedals.</p>
+
+<p>Perry was wiggling, the control. They were stiff but not immovable.
+With an eye of a practiced airman, he noted what they did to the tail
+and wing fins. So far, so good. He turned a small valve on the dash.
+There was a creaky, rhythmic sputter from behind. Evidently there was
+still fuel in the tanks. In response to the brief rocket thrust, the
+craft rolled a little way up the spiral guide rail. Then back to norm
+as Perry returned the throttle to its original position.</p>
+
+<p>"So what?" he said with a shrug. "Nothing funny about finding this
+crate here. It's made of the same kind of evidently almost uncorrodable
+metals as the instruments here in the control room. So it should last
+forever. And the old-timers must have longed for the great outdoors
+sometimes. That's logical enough. But there isn't the sign of a
+weapon—nothing we could use to attack a giant. And Kerwin is a giant,
+now, in relation to us!"</p>
+
+<p>"How about bluff?" Troubles questioned, dimples of exasperation showing
+at the corners of her mouth. "Come on, bonehead. Quit stalling! Haven't
+you got any imagination at all?"</p>
+
+<p>Wilcox grinned at her, startled and admiring. Her attitude gave him a
+lifting sense of adventure. "Okay!" he drawled. "Funny, though—I used
+to think you were a friend of Kerwin's. Of course, you could be trying
+to pull a fast one yet, I suppose!"</p>
+
+<p>"And I could knock that pug schnozzle of yours flatter than it is, for
+that crack!" Troubles returned. "Come on! Let's see action—if you're
+good enough to get any out of this thing!"</p>
+
+<p>Perry opened the throttle. A little at first, then more and more. Speed
+was built up. It became a dizzy whirl. Around and around that spiral
+track, up and up....</p>
+
+<hr class="tb">
+
+<p>Lyman Kerwin sat in his office, topping the great Kerwin Building at
+Chicago. Glass surrounded him—thick, green-tinted, bullet-proof glass.
+Above him, beyond the metal-ribbed sky-panes of his eyrie, the star
+blinked. Lyman Kerwin was studying the notes of the speech he was going
+to deliver in five minutes.</p>
+
+<p>Thoughts went racing through his fevered brain. Thoughts of
+satisfaction and triumph. Here he was like a god, far up above the
+rabble. What did it matter if a lot of them hated him, and mistrusted
+his motives? They were afraid of what it was out there, not so many
+hundreds of miles to the north-west. He'd see that they remained
+frightened, as long as it was necessary.</p>
+
+<p>They didn't know what he knew—what the poor fool, Professor Vince, had
+found out—that the enemy were only machines, awesome in their powers,
+but incapable of organized thought. Someday, when Vince had learned
+more for him, and when there'd been enough fighting to give him full
+control of the country, those robots would doubtless provide him with a
+means of keeping his power in hand, even of extending it.</p>
+
+<p>Lyman Kerwin arose from his chair and strode to the paneled cabinet in
+the corner. He entered the cabinet and snapped on the brilliant lights
+on either side of him. Facing him was a radio microphone and a pair of
+lensed, television eyes. He had only to close a switch to make himself
+visible and audible to the waiting world.</p>
+
+<p>Above him was a mirror. Kerwin admired himself in it. He knew he wasn't
+handsome—in any ordinary way, at least. It would be better, of course,
+if he were young. But he looked like a master. He looked clever. Yes,
+he <i>was</i> clever! A genius! And his new, black uniform was slick,
+becoming the role he must play. There was a badge on the coat lapel.
+U.S. in black blocked letters, against a red background. And at the
+center, in a gold star that was like a small, bright halo of glory, his
+own initials in black—L.K. The badge was his own idea, and the jeweler
+had wrought skillfully.</p>
+
+<p>It was almost time for the speech, now. Kerwin turned about to get
+his notes. He stopped in chagrin. The papers on his desk were burning
+merrily! How they had become ignited, he couldn't imagine, since he
+hadn't been smoking. It was unnerving. The first wave of fright went
+through his cowardly soul as he bounded forward to brush the burning
+papers to the floor, and stamp out the flames.</p>
+
+<p>He hadn't seen the tiny, two-inch thing, like a miniature plane in
+shape and function, that had come down through the ventilator above.
+While his back was turned, it had darted toward the papers. Its atomic
+rocket blasts, blue and almost invisible, yet terrifically hot,
+had touched the litter on the desk. Now the minute intruder clung,
+inactive, by means of anchoring claws, to the wallward side of an urn
+of flowers atop a bookcase.</p>
+
+<p>Kerwin shrugged his hunched, sloping shoulders. "I don't need the
+notes," he thought, trying to reassure himself—trying to drive the
+nameless, uncanny fear out of his heart.</p>
+
+<p>He walked to the television cabinet and snapped the switches. It was
+time to broadcast.</p>
+
+<p>"My friends," he began. "Today we have started the big push against
+the Murgatroyd-Wilcox Horror. It may be that hundreds of thousands
+of men must die in the battle to hold this terrible enemy in check.
+But this cannot be helped. I have tried to do my part. I appreciate
+the great honor that has been bestowed upon me in making me Director
+of Defense. But for efficiency, I cannot go on in this manner. There
+is too much bickering among people who are not sincerely fighting
+for the welfare of humanity. I must have the means to command, and if
+necessary, silence these individuals. I must have full control of all
+the nation's resources. In this emergency, not a moment must be wasted
+in friction—in lack of cooperation. I have—"</p>
+
+<p>Kerwin's small eyes were beginning to shine, but he stopped abruptly.</p>
+
+<hr class="tb">
+
+<p>Very near to him, he heard a tiny voice speaking. Its tones were like
+the tinkling of minute flakes of glass. It was an impossible voice,
+and yet a vaguely familiar one. Though it seemed close—almost at his
+shoulder—still it seemed, too, to be shouted from a great distance:</p>
+
+<p>"Interesting speech, Kerwin! Well planned! You've reached the crucial
+point in your scheme, huh? All right! Go on! Don't hesitate!"</p>
+
+<p>But Lyman Kerwin's words had broken off. He half turned. Then he
+remembered his audience—millions of people observing his every move
+by means of television. He didn't dare show any fear or disconcertion,
+now! The rabble must believe in him. But a cold dew of terror was
+breaking out on his bald pate and skinny cheeks.</p>
+
+<p>"I have—I think—proved my worth," he continued, stammering into the
+microphone. "I must not be hampered by—by the President of the United
+States, and by—Congress. I—" Kerwin's voice was becoming a thin
+squeak.</p>
+
+<p>"What's the matter, Kerwin?" came taunting words in those thready,
+elfin, confident tones. "Got stage fright or something? Don't act like
+that! Pull yourself together! People will start laughing at you, first
+thing you know!"</p>
+
+<p>"I—" the crooked financier gurgled, struggling to go on with his
+oratory from where he had left off; but nervousness seemed to have
+strangled him.</p>
+
+<p>And the unseen, pixy speaker went on: "Come now, Kerwin!" he was
+chided. "This won't do at all! You're a big man, you know! You've sent
+thousands of youth to their deaths already—just for your own glory.
+You can't let everybody know you've got a yella streak a yard wide....
+No, stop! Don't go turning off those switches! It happens we could kill
+you in a split second. On the second thought, maybe it's just as well
+folks see what goes on here. You wouldn't want anybody to be misled,
+would you? There, that's better! Don't shiver so much. Don't turn. Just
+stay where you are....</p>
+
+<p>"That's probably a real good microphone you've got there, Kerwin.
+It'll probably pick up even my voice, so everybody can hear it. I'm
+not exactly just the voice of your conscience, you see. Nor am I so
+easily ignored. By now many men know what you're up to, Kerwin. They
+know about those robots—that they're only mechanical things intended
+for defense. They've learned this fact in the front lines. But you've
+been clever enough to keep them there, where they'd be killed quickly.
+But we know more about this so-called 'Murgatroyd-Wilcox Horror' than
+you or your scientists do, Kerwin. Because we've been—and so to speak
+still are—<i>on the inside</i>!</p>
+
+<p>"There's just one thing for me to say to the world, Kerwin. There isn't
+time, right at this moment, for complete explanations. But I think many
+people will anticipate my suggestion—that the army be withdrawn to a
+distance of half a mile from its present entrenchments. I do not think
+it will be attacked there. If we are given ten days to work—Miss Lyssa
+Arthurs, late of the <i>Brenton Herald</i>, and myself, Perry Wilcox—I
+think the trouble will be cleared up."</p>
+
+<p>The little voice took on a sharper edge, as it addressed itself more
+directly to the financier: "You can turn around now, Kerwin. I guess
+it's the end, huh? They've seen you, they've got your number. They've
+heard me talk. Maybe they're wondering what it's all about. Maybe
+they're scared and uncertain. But one thing's sure—you're through.
+You're a yellow fake, Kerwin...."</p>
+
+<hr class="tb">
+
+<p>Slowly the financier pivoted on rubbery legs. His now bulging eyes saw
+nothing but the great room, which was to have been the focus of his
+empire.</p>
+
+<p>Quivering with a horror that was part nameless and partly born of the
+knowledge that he was an exposed enemy of society who could never
+escape, Kerwin backed along the wall. He reached a window, and tugged
+at its fastenings for air.</p>
+
+<p>He gave a start as a low hiss sounded near him. Looking back, he saw
+a little dartlike thing, spitting blue flame, and swinging close. It
+had an ugly, alien look. He ducked it, screaming. With wild clawings
+in which no reason remained, except to escape that devilish, hissing
+unknown, he climbed to the window sill. There he toppled briefly,
+babbling:</p>
+
+<p>"I didn't mean it! No! Don't!..."</p>
+
+<p>A moment later he pitched, with a wail of terror, toward the street far
+below.</p>
+
+<p>This time he hadn't heard two faint tinkly voices, shouting a belated
+warning. Perry and Troubles hadn't meant to frighten him to this
+extreme.</p>
+
+<p>The plane flew back, alighting before the microphone, and in the path
+of those television lenses. Two little doll-like beings descended
+from the craft. For ten minutes Perry Wilcox talked, telling what had
+happened; and the world saw and heard. Then he and his companion
+returned to the plane. With a hiss it flew toward the ventilator in the
+ceiling. And the city below, hummed in wonder.</p>
+
+<hr class="tb">
+
+<p>There were some doubts, of course; but the big push was stopped. A week
+later, the army, watching from its new, rearward trenches, saw a sudden
+cessation of motion on the citadel they faced. Most of the gleaming
+Titans there, stood still in their tracks, as though frozen in the
+morning sunshine.</p>
+
+<p>Perry Wilcox and Lyssa Arthurs were pulled, inert, from the vat of
+green liquid by attendant robots left active for the purpose. They had
+submitted to the reversal of the process of decreased size, and now
+they were normal again. After an hour they awoke. They passed through
+the exit tunnel, and out into the open air. They climbed down the
+silent slopes beyond the ramparts.</p>
+
+<p>They reached the ragged, battered river flats, strewn with wreckage
+and dotted with silent metal giants. Then someone hailed them. A tank,
+piloted by a soldier, pulled close. Its turret opened, and a head was
+thrust out. Perry saw a new Windsor tie, new checkered shirt, a thin
+face, a bit blistered, and red hair, singed short—only, there was a
+bandage over the eyes.</p>
+
+<p>"Rod!" Perry gasped. "I thought—"</p>
+
+<p>Old Roderick Murgatroyd laughed. "I know," he chuckled. "You thought
+Kerwin's roustabouts lynched me. But when they stormed the hospital, I
+wasn't there! Fooled 'em. Sneaked off. Then some newshounds cornered
+me. But never mind that! See! I've got my newsreel rig!" He was
+clutching the small camera strapped around his neck as he continued
+plaintively: "I want to take some pictures, Perry. Darn, I can't wait
+for my eyes to get better! Show me what's good. Path of Progress has
+made its greatest hit. We've got to carry on, Perry...."</p>
+
+<p>Wilcox' face was suddenly pained. But he kept his voice brisk. "Sure
+we've got to carry on, Rod!" he enthused. "Hurry up and get out of that
+tin wagon! There's at least a hundred battle automatons standing here
+around us!"</p>
+
+<p>"Hang the automatons," said the old scientist, jumping down lithely
+with the guidance of Perry's hand. "I want a picture of you, first!"</p>
+
+<p>"That means Troubles too, then," Perry shot back. "I think you'll be
+buying wedding presents before very long!"</p>
+
+<p>"Jupiter! That's swell! Now, let's see.... Just where are you?"</p>
+
+<p>"Right here, Rod!" Lyssa said briskly, a small, unnoticeable catch in
+her gay tone. "Standing close together. Shoot!"</p>
+
+<p>They let him take his time, fumbling eagerly but clumsily with his
+camera. And from his enthusiasm they drew many thoughts. He was a
+little like the leader of those people from interstellar space, who had
+built themselves a lovely, forbidden paradise in the small—a paradise
+that native Earth men would never colonize, though there might soon be
+found many uses even for the ionic science that had made it possible.
+Exploration of places that full-size men could never reach. A miniature
+secret service, perhaps.</p>
+
+<p>The golden statue on the crest of the Pantheon, down there. Old Rod
+belonged to that same class—an idealist. Nor could Perry Wilcox scoff
+now, for he was one himself.</p>
+
+<p>In the silence, Rod Murgatroyd's camera mechanism worked. In the
+background, above the scarred slope, smoke arose silently from the vent
+of a subterranean factory.</p>
+
+<p>This was old Rod's moment of triumph. So Perry and Troubles could not
+tell him that his eyes were gone.</p>
+
+<hr class="tb">
+
+<div class="footnote">
+
+<p><a id="Footnote_1" href="#FNanchor_1" class="label">[1]</a> Judging from the vat in which Perry and Troubles were
+reduced, the apparatus attached to it, and the sensations of being in
+that green fluid, it would seem that the process of reduction is partly
+electrical. Perhaps similar to electroplating—the drawing away of
+substance from one electrode, and its transfer, in the form of ions,
+to the opposite electrode. Each cell in Perry's and Troubles' bodies,
+and in their clothing, could have been reduced that way. This isn't
+so startling when reduced to prime factors. The human body is simply
+chemicals. So are clothes. And life may be electrical in itself.—Ed.</p>
+
+</div>
+
+<div class="footnote">
+
+<p><a id="Footnote_2" href="#FNanchor_2" class="label">[2]</a> For a given shape and density of material, the smaller an
+object the higher the proportionate resistance it offers to the air.
+This is because, in relation to its bulk, a small object has a greater
+surface area than a large one. Hence, relatively more friction. Thus,
+in air, a mouse might be expected to fall slightly slower than a man.</p>
+
+<p>But this is not the most important reason why small objects are not as
+easily damaged by proportionate forces as large objects. Take the model
+of an ocean liner. It seems very firm and rigid. Build a full-size ship
+under the same specifications—same steel, same relative thicknesses
+and lengths. If it was possible to pick such a ship up from either end,
+it would be in danger of breaking in two under its own weight!</p>
+
+<p>Small objects are relatively stronger. In order to make a full-size
+ship as strong as its model, the strength of the materials used would
+have to be increased in proportion.—Ed.</p>
+
+</div>
+
+<div style='text-align:center'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 75441 ***</div>
+</body>
+</html>
+
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+Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for
+eBook #75441 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/75441)