nd. His coat pockets and the hunting jacket were weighted
heavily with the supply of ammunition. There was a feeling of security
in the weapon and the shells, but he knew it was a short-lived,
deceptive security.

He went to Eighth Street and turned north, which would bring him close
to the burned warehouse. He could see the immense, rolling column of
black smoke and hear the bursting crackle of its flames. The whole town
could go, he thought, if the fire became hot enough. It would spread
from building to building regardless of the snow cover. He glanced at
the sky and hoped the snow might soon resume.

From the rooftop, it had seemed to Ken that the small units of the
defenders were almost leaderless, and there was lack of co-ordination
between them. He came up in their rear ranks and confirmed this
suspicion. They seemed to be depending as best they could on unanimous
and intuitive agreement about a course of action. What had happened to
their sergeants and lieutenants, Ken did not know. Perhaps in their
haste of organization there never had been any.

There was top-level command, of course, as appointed by Sheriff Johnson
for the entire sector, but it did not extend to the lower levels in any
degree Ken could see.

The men paid no attention as Ken joined them. He knew a few of the dozen
nearby, but they seemed to regard him as a total stranger. The shock of
battle was in their eyes, and they seemed wholly unaware of anything in
the world except the desperate necessity to find cover and to destroy
the invader.

Ken followed them into the shelter of a house flanking the
still-advancing incendiaries. He crouched at a window with an older man
whom he did not know and leveled his rifle through an opening. A pair of
figures appeared momentarily at the edge of the smoking cloud. The older
man jerked his gun and fired frantically and ineffectively.

"Slow!" Ken cried. "Aim before you shoot!"

The man glanced at him in a kind of daze. Ken sighted patiently and
carefully. The smoke cloud parted once again and he squeezed the
trigger. One of the figures dropped and the smoke cloud closed down
again.

Ken's calmness seemed to penetrate his companion who leaned back for a
moment to wipe a shaking hand across his sweat-stained face.

"I've never done anything like this before," he murmured helplessly.

"None of us have," said Ken; "but we've got to do it now. Watch it!
We're drawing their fire!"

Bullets shattered t