y walked forward; Riley carried a flash.

The odor grew to a stench as they came where the great mass had lain. On
the ground was a fleshy mound. There were bones showing, and horns on a
skull. Riley held the light close to show the body of a steer. A body of
raw bleeding meat. Half of it had been absorbed....

"The damned thing," said Riley, and paused vainly for adequate words.
"The damned thing was eating.... Like a jelly-fish, it was!"

"Exactly," Thurston agreed. He pointed about. There were other heaps
scattered among the low sage.

"Smothered," guessed Thurston, "with that frozen exhaust. Then the
filthy thing landed and came out to eat."

"Hold the light for me," the pilot commanded. "I'm goin' to fix that
busted oil line. And I'm goin' to do it right now. Maybe the creature's
still hungry."

* * * * *

They sat in their room. About them was the luxury of a modern hotel.
Cyrus Thurston stared vacantly at the breakfast he was forgetting to
eat. He wiped his hands mechanically on a snowy napkin. He looked from
the window. There were palm trees in the park, and autos in a ceaseless
stream. And people! Sane, sober people, living in a sane world. Newsboys
were shouting; the life of the city was flowing.

"Riley!" Thurston turned to the man across the table. His voice was
curiously toneless, and his face haggard. "Riley, I haven't slept for
three nights. Neither have you. We've got to get this thing straight. We
didn't both become absolute maniacs at the same instant, but--it was
_not_ there, it was _never_ there--not _that_...." He was lost in
unpleasant recollections. "There are other records of hallucinations."

"Hallucinations--hell!" said Slim Riley. He was looking at a Los Angeles
newspaper. He passed one hand wearily across his eyes, but his face was
happier than it had been in days.

"We didn't imagine it, we aren't crazy--it's real! Would you read that
now!" He passed the paper across to Thurston. The headlines were
startling.

"Pilot Killed by Mysterious Airship. Silvery Bubble Hangs Over New York.
Downs Army Plane in Burst of Flame. Vanishes at Terrific Speed."

"It's our little friend," said Thurston. And on his face, too, the lines
were vanishing; to find this horror a reality was positive relief.
"Here's the same cloud of vapor--drifted slowly across the city,
the accounts says, blowing this stuff like steam from underneath.
Airplanes investigated--an army pla