A DESPERATE SORTIE.

My plans for making the trip to the airport did not include the use of either the automobile or the road. The lane leading to the highway was now almost a solid mass of stalk medusæ, and the highway itself had been declared impassable, blocked as it was by the interlacing tentacles which grew clear up to the edge of the concrete. I did have a plan, however, which I thought quite capable of being carried into effect.

Among the farm implements was a powerful caterpillar tractor. When I told the professor that I intended to use it and take a short cut across the fields, he was dumfounded.

"Why, Dick, that would be fatal. There isn't even a cab over it for protection. I can't think of permitting it."

"What if I turn it into a tank first?" I asked.

"Into a tank? How?"

"There are plenty of materials and tools. The old chicken house you tore down had a sheet metal roof. Fastened on two-by-fours and well braced, this will make a cab that will be as good a protection as a closed automobile. And with a few lights of glass from your greenhouse we can make a windshield that will answer our purpose. With one man driving and another using an acetylene torch, we can go through almost anything short of a stone wall. The torch will not only burn any medusæ that may impede our progress, but will cut through the wire fences."

"By Jove!" exclaimed the professor. "It sounds feasible enough. Get Smith to help you build that tank. I suppose it will take several days, but the thing will be almost invincible, once it is constructed."

"I don't think it will take two of us long to build," I answered. "We should have it ready for the trip by tomorrow afternoon."

"If you do, so much the better," said the professor. "Go ahead, and while you are at it I'll do some more experimenting."

Smith and I set to work on our tank shortly thereafter. The other farm hands, reënforced at times by the professor, kept after the stalk medusæ that continued to sprout near the buildings, using the acetylene torches. But just outside the little circle kept cleared around the buildings was a solid forest of stalk medusæ that stretched as far as the eye could see in every direction. And the air was heavy with the sickening, musty stench that exuded from their silver-gray bodies and deadly tentacles.

While Smith and I worked on our tank, Sue came out from time to time to tell us of the latest developments as announced on the radio. Once she brought us lemonade, and again, tea, sandwiches and cakes.

According to the latest reports, the medusæ had adopted their trawling tactics everywhere. Yet they appeared to be aware that their intended prey was thickest in the cities, and swooped down on them in great numbers.

Some cities were approached during fogs or rainstorms when the coming of the medusæ went unnoticed, and as a result, thousands of people perished. Even the smallest towns and villages had their lookouts posted, and when a suspicious cloud was sighted whistles were blown, bells rung, and shots fired, in order that every one might seek cover.

Thousands of stalk medusæ were sprouting in city lawns and parks, and as a result every fire-making apparatus that could be secured was pressed into use.

* * * * *

It was not until after dinner that night that we heard for the first time of individual medusæ attacking closed houses, insinuating their fine tentacles through crevices around windows and doors, keyholes, or any other openings, until they were able to find and kill the inmates by terrific electrical shocks; after absorbing them through the tentacles alone, they would move on in search of other prey.

Householders were warned to keep torches ready, to have fires going at all times, and to keep soldering irons, pokers, tongs and shovels red-hot, to be used in case of attack. They were warned, also, that when touching a tentacle with a metal object they should wear rubbers and either insulate the grip of the weapon they were using or wear rubber gloves.

That night we took turns watching, the professor, Smith, Wong, and I, with the furnace going full blast and every window and door tightly closed. As it was unusually warm we made a most uncomfortable night of it.

It was three o'clock on the following afternoon before Smith and I were ready to start across the fields to the airport in our tank.

Smith, who had handled tractors for many years, was to do the driving, while I managed the torch. In addition to this weapon and the pump-gun, we carried a bottle of dilute prussic acid solution and a small brush to be used in removing any tentacles that might wrap themselves around us. My right arm, which projected from the side of the cab through a hole cut especially for the purpose, was protected by sheet metal armor, and my hand, with which I grasped the pole to which the nozzle was fastened, was covered by a heavy leather gauntlet to which Sue had stitched tiny overlapping plates of metal.

Sue, Mrs. Davis, the professor, and the entire entourage were present to see us off.

Farewells and godspeeds were said, and we lumbered off across the barnyard and into the pasture lane.

At the mouth of the lane we encountered our first stalk medusæ. They bent down to receive us, and their writhing tentacles whipped menacingly around us. But the tractor knocked the stalks down and trundled over them, almost as if they had not been there, while the spurting acetylene flame instantly severed every tentacle it touched.

We made slow but steady progress, leaving a writhing, squirming, stinking trail of crushed and scorched medusæ behind us. After we crossed the pasture we cut our first fence with the acetylene torch, and entered what had been the clover field.

As I looked at the weird, unearthly landscape, I was struck by its contrast with the pleasant scene it had presented two days before, when I had lain in the speckled shade of the hackberry tree listening to the bees droning in the sweet-scented clover while Sue wove a garland of blossoms.

Where the clover had been the ground was dry and bare between the ugly, tentacle-crowned, silver-gray stalks. The hackberry tree, stripped of its leaves and drained of its sap, stood a gaunt, lifeless skeleton, its bare limbs stretched heavenward as it in a plea for vengeance on its merciless destroyers.

The droning of the bees, the chirping of the crickets, and singing of birds--all were stilled, to be replaced by one monotonous and sinister sound--the rustling of countless millions of writhing, squirming tentacles. And the pleasant fragrance of clover and wild flowers had given away to the disgusting decay-smell of the medusæ.

We lumbered slowly across the former clover field, cut a second fence, and entered the pasture in which Pilot Jackson had crashed two days before. Here we found more and larger medusæ than we had previously encountered, and our progress was for a time considerably retarded. But we got across at last, cut a third fence, and entered what had once been a cornfield. Like the other fields we had crossed, it was completely denuded of vegetation by the rankly growing crop of invaders from the comet.

* * * * *

As we approached the airport we saw with relief that the landing field had been kept clear of medusæ. A squad of men using a flame-thrower were kept busy destroying such sprouts as cropped up from time to time.

The surface of the entire field was blackened by the repeated burning to which it had been subjected.

When we cut our last fence and entered the landing field, we were greeted by a loud cheer from a group in front of the airport, and they crowded curiously around us as we approached.

Captain Felton, in charge of the port, greeted us cordially, and ordered the munitions loaded for us. They consisted of several cases of hand grenades, a trench mortar with ammunition, an anti-aircraft gun with ammunition, a machine gun with ammunition, and a number of unloaded shells with material for loading them. As we knew very little about these weapons he detailed a corporal named Ole Hansen to go with us and show us how to assemble and use them.

In a few minutes a sergeant reported that our cargo was loaded. After we had taken leave of the captain and stowed Ole Hansen among the munitions, Smith climbed into the driver's seat. I lighted my torch and took my position beside him.

The men at the airport cheered us and wished us luck as we trundled off over the scorched field.

Soon we were smashing and burning our way back over the path by which we had come. We made much better time than before as the medusæ over which we had previously passed were badly crippled, and those on either side had many of their tentacles burned away.

It was not until we were on the last lap of our journey, crashing through the lane that led to the cattle pens, that Smith noticed something amiss at the Davis house.

"Mr. Perry!" he cried in horror. "Look! Look over there toward the house!"

I looked, and the blood froze in my veins, for where the house should have been plainly visible, I could see only a dense, silver-gray cloud. As we approached it there came plainly to our ears above the noise of our motor the roaring sound which a giant medusa makes when it attacks.