this they had hurled themselves through space--to make a
morning morsel for these incredible beasts.

* * * * *

About the men was a confusion of granite rocks, thrown from the crater
to provide weapons, crude and futile, for two puny earth-dwellers. The
men raised great rocks in the air and threw them with all their
strength. Jerry struggled with a mammoth boulder,--Winslow leaping to
his aid. They toppled it over to start an avalanche of devastation
that swept into the oncoming monsters.

And again there was respite for their aching arms, while the
hunger-crazed brutes tore at the bruised bodies of their fellows.

Jerry Foster looked longingly again toward the crater. Should they
chance the shelter of the jungle growth? Hopeless, he knew when these
monsters could crash their way through while the men were impeded at
every step. The mottled, orange-green stalks, as he watched them,
seemed to move. He dashed the sweat from his face--his hair hung
matted on his forehead--and passed a grimy hand across his eyes.
Plainly, one of those stalks crossed a rocky-floored clearing.

Was he dreaming? Was this all a dream--a mad nightmare from which he
could force himself to wake? Another moved. He saw definitely a
mushroom growth pass swiftly to lose itself in a neighboring clump.
Dreaming? No! The screams from behind him and Winslow's hoarse yell
proved the stark reality of his surroundings.

The vile creatures were close: Jerry could see their fierce heads
dripping with blood. He reached for his pistol, knew instantly it was
useless against these mammoth brutes, and joined Winslow, who was
straining desperately at another great rock. It toppled and fell.
Jerry hurled himself at a heap of smaller boulders and sent them
crashing as fast as he could seize them and throw.

* * * * *

One quick look behind him showed still the impossible vision he had
seen. And now there were figures--a mob of them--figures that threw
off their wrappings of vegetation as they ran, cast to the ground the
toadstool disguises that they held. They were caricatures of men that
were swarming up the hill....

He swung again in one last hopeless stand against the first horrible
enemy. The two men poured a torrent of stones down the slope; they
were useless, except for their delaying the advance. The beasts leaped
and dodged. They were close when the rock-rain increased to a deluge.

J