ron, sir, the energy is absorbed and the iron heats up and blows
up the ship. The Wabbly's working with a bomber well aloft, sir, which
spots planes from below by picking up their spark-plug flashes in a
directional loop. The bomber aloft, sir, drops eggs when the Wabbly's
attacked. Sergeant Walpole reports several planes disabled by their
fabric being blown off their wings."

* * * * *

"I know," said the major-general. "Dammit, the front takes every ship
that's fit to go aloft. We have only wrecks back here. You're sure about
that spark-plug affair?"

"Yes, sir," said the 'copter pilot. "My ship crashed, sir. I started the
motors again, trying to take off. Eggs began to drop about me
instantly."

"Nasty!" said the major-general. "I was going to join my men. We've
flung a line of artillery ahead of the thing. Motor-driven, of course.
But if they can pick up motors by the spark-waves, the bomber knows all
about it. Nasty!"

He lit a cigar, calmly. The gyrocar shifted suddenly and backed away
from the thing it had been tangled in.

"Why ain't the bombers been shot down?" demanded Sergeant Walpole
angrily. "Dammit, sir, if it wasn't for them bombers--"

"Up to an hour ago," said the major-general, "we had lost sixty-eight
planes trying to get those bombers. You see, it works both ways. The
bombers drop eggs to help the Wabbly defend itself. And the Wabbly uses
that power-beam you spoke of to wipe the sky clean about the bombers. I
wondered how it was done, before you explained, sir. Do you men want to
come with me? Get on the running-board if you like. We shall probably be
killed."

The gyrocar purred softly away, with two horses left wandering and two
men clinging fast in a sweep of wind. They found a ribbon of concrete
road and the wind sang as the car picked up speed. Then, suddenly, it
bucked madly and went out of control, and, as suddenly, was passing
along the road again. The Wabbly had passed over the roadway here.

* * * * *

And then they heard gunfire ahead. Honest, malevolent gunfire. Flashes
lit the horizon. The gyrocar speeded up until it fairly hummed, and the
wind rushed into the nostrils and mouths of the men on the
running-boards. The cannonade increased. It reached really respectable
proportions, until it became a titanic din. As the road rose up a long
incline, a shell burst in mid-air in plain view, and the driver of the
gyrocar