ing in. Somebody'll believe
it, and, believe me, there'll be some investigating in the
neighborhood of the growth in no time."

"By George, I believe that'll do it!" Van exclaimed. "And the
broadcasters listen in for an S. O. S. themselves. Got to, you know,
so they know when to start up again. Some smart announcer will tell
the story--maybe even believe it. The trick will work, sure as
shooting!"

* * * * *

The pilot glanced at his instruments and saw that the automatic
gyro-apparatus was functioning properly. Then he moved over to the
radio and threw the switch that put the key in circuit instead of the
microphone. Rapidly he ticked off the three dots, three dashes, and
again three dots that spelled the dread danger signal of the air. Over
and over he repeated the signal, and then he listened for results.

"It worked!" he gloated, after a moment. "They're all signing off--the
broadcasters. The Navy Yard in Brooklyn gives me the go-ahead."

He pounded out the absurd message with swift fingers, pausing
occasionally to ask a pertinent question of Van or Bart. At Van's
request he added a warning to all residents of New York State west of
the Hudson River and of northern New Jersey to flee their homes
without delay. He even asked that the message be relayed to the
governors of the two states, and that Governor Perkins of New York be
advised that they were on their way to Albany to discuss the
situation. But he balked at the story of the Lunarians, telling
instead the equally strange truth regarding the origin of the deadly
growth, and adding the names of Van and Bart to lend authenticity to
the tale.

Then he signed off and switched the radio receiver to the loud speaker
before returning to the pilot's seat.

Bart tuned in on the various broadcasters as they resumed their
programs, finally settling on WOR, Newark, whose announcer was
reading the strange message to his radio public with appropriate
comment. A crime and an outrage he called it, an affront to the
industry and to the public. An insult to the government of the United
States. But wait! A telephone call had just been received at the
station from the village of Sloatesburg. A reputable citizen of that
town had reported the red growth at the edge of the State road--huge
red earthworms wriggling across the concrete. Another call, and
another! The announcer's voice was rising hysterically.

"It _did_ work, Bart," Van exulted