ing
light.

On foot, a vast host of the invaders moved toward the northern defenses
of the town. Instantly, he understood their strategy. While their small
parties of mounted attackers had pressed the southern defenses, giving
the impression they intended to make their major approach there, the
bulk of their forces had marched entirely around Lincoln's Peak and come
upon the northern boundary at night. That was why the peak had been so
heavily guarded against the scouts.

It had been a march of over 40 miles to by-pass the valley. Now,
however, the nomads were in a position to achieve their goal. The bulk
of the town's defense was concentrated in the south. Little stood in the
way of the horde advancing from the north.

His heart sickened as he saw them rip through the barbed-wire enclosure.
The poorly manned defense posts seemed almost non-existent. Only a
scattering of shots was thrown at the invaders.

From somewhere, a warning siren sounded, the agreed-upon signal to
indicate invasion in that sector. It was far too late for that, Ken
thought. The horde was already in the streets, fanning out, dispersing
in the deserted streets.

Ken started for the doorway leading from the roof. His responsibility to
College Hill was gone now. Every man in the valley was fighting for his
own life. If that battle were lost, College Hill would be only an empty
symbol, where ghosts were housed, as in Berkeley, as in Chicago, as in
a thousand centers of learning the world around.

With his hand on the latch of the door he paused at a new sound that
broke upon the air. An incredible barrage of firing was occurring along
northern Main Street near 12th Avenue. He put the fieldglasses to his
eyes again and watched the scattering nomads seeking cover. Dozens of
them lay where they fell headlong in the streets.

Ken strained his eyes to see where the defense had come from. It was
centered in the houses and buildings that lined the streets, and on
their rooftops. He could see the ant-sized outlines of figures on those
roofs. For a moment he failed to understand. Then he felt a choking
sensation in his throat.

In a desperate gamble, Johnson and Hilliard had anticipated this move
and prepared for it as best they could. They had allowed the main body
of the attackers to enter the town itself and had deployed the majority
of their guns to ring them about, while offering only token defense on
the south.

This was it. The battle would b