of the friendly hill that sheltered his cabin
from the north wind, when, with a sudden gasp, he stopped and stared.
Coming apparently out of the very heart of the hill, an immense brown
object extended itself along the horizon and at last floated free in air.

To understand this strange phenomenon, we must know what had been
happening at camp, and what Pant had been doing since finding the
mysterious black bill.

The ball was covered with black paper. This much, Pant discovered at once.
The rest he left to the seclusion of his pup tent and the light of a
candle.

When at last he unwrapped the paper, he found nothing more than a film, a
small, moving-picture film. This had been developed, dried, then rewound
on a spool. The remainder of the inner contents of the ball was nothing
but blank paper with never a scratch of writing upon it. When Pant had
examined each scrap carefully, he held the film to the light. There were
pictures on it. As his keen eyes studied them, his expression changed from
that of puzzled interest to intense surprise, almost of horror.

For a full half hour he sat there holding them close to the light, then
far away; tipping them to one angle then another, mirroring them on the
retina of his eye until nothing could efface them. Then, having rerolled
and rewrapped them, he hid them away among his deer skins and turning
over, fell asleep.

He was awake again by sunrise, and without pausing for breakfast went
directly to the entrance of Mine No. 1. Having entered without a light, he
made his way to the back of the cavity. There he paused to listen. The
earth shudder seemed to fairly shake the rocks loose about him. One pebble
did rattle to the floor. The next instant there came the clang of rocks on
metal. A light flashed. It was in Pant's hand. In the gleaming circle of
light from his electric torch, a brightly polished disk of metal appeared.
It was eating its way through the frozen wall of sand and rock. One second
the light flashed, the next second Pant was hurrying from the mine as if
his life depended upon it.

Dashing down the hill, he broke into the mess-room where the men were
assembled for hot-cakes and coffee.

"Arms! arms!" he panted. "Rifles, automatics, anything. A pick, two picks.
C'mon."

The men, believing that he had gone mad, stood staring in speechless
astonishment.

"C'mon, can't you?" he pleaded. "It's the yellow men, the dirty little
yellow men. They've got an infernal