d, but the guns of the speeding ships drove them
off. Red-and-white shapes fell swiftly from the clouds where the
fighting had been, and McGuire knew that his fellows had given an
account of themselves in the fighting at close range.

Again the thundering line was sharp and true, and another unswerving
attack was launching itself from above. And again the deadly
formation, with ever-increasing speed, drove into the enemy with
flashing guns, then parted to close with the ones that drove
crushingly upon them, while the sharper clatter of rapid-firing guns
came to shatter the air.

The fighting craft had been rising from their level field in a
succession that seemed endless. They were all in the air now, and only
the great transports remained on the paved field.

* * * * *

A red-striped fighter swept downward in retreat, and, from the smoke
clouds, a silvery shape followed in pursuit. It reached the red and
white one with its shells, and the great mass crashed with terrific
impact on the field. Its pursuer must have seen the monsters still on
the ground, and it swung to rake them with a shower of small-caliber
shells.

There were machine-guns rattling as it passed above the thronged
reds--the troops who were huddled in terror in the open court. It tore
on past them--past a figure in khaki who raced forward with the golden
form of a girl within his arms, then released her to wave frantically
as the silver ship shot by.

Unobserved, McGuire and Althora had been, where they stood beside the
buildings: the eyes of their enemies, like their own, were on the
monstrous battle above. But now they had called themselves to the
attention of the reds, and there were some who rushed upon them with
faces livid with rage.

McGuire reached for a weapon from a victim of the machine-gun fire and
prepared to defend himself, but the weapon was never used. He saw the
silvery shape reverse itself in the air; it turned sharply to throw
itself back toward the solitary figure in uniform of their service and
the golden-clad girl beside him.

The flyer raised his weapon, but the jostling swarm that rushed upon
him melted: the ripping fire of machine guns was deafening in his
ears. Their deadly tattoo continued while the great ship sank slowly
to touch and rest its huge bulk upon the pavement. A door in the
ship's curved side opened that the blocky figure of a man might leap
forth.

He was grimy of face, a