hey ran. They heard the sharp crack of rifles. They saw the dust
spurting up. Doctor Spechaug heard himself howling as he became aware of
peculiar stings in his body. Queer, painless, deeply penetrating
sensations that made themselves felt all over his body--as though he was
awakening from a long paralysis.

Then the mad yelling faded rapidly behind them. They were running,
streaking out of the town with inhuman speed. They struck out in long
easy strides across the meadow toward the dense woods that brooded
beyond the college.

Her voice gasped exultingly. "They couldn't hurt us! They couldn't! They
tried!"

He nodded, straining eagerly toward he knew not what, nosing into the
fresh wind. How swiftly and gracefully they could run. Soon they lost
themselves in the thick dark forest. Shadows hid them.

* * * * *

Days later the moon was full. It edged over the low hill flanking Glen
Oaks on the east. June bugs buzzed ponderously like armor-plated dragons
toward the lights glowing faintly from the town. Frogs croaked from the
swampy meadows and the creek.

They came up slowly to stand silhouetted against the glowing moon,
nosing hungrily into the steady, aromatic breeze blowing from the Conway
farm below.

They glided effortlessly down, then across the sharp-bladed marsh grass,
leaping high with each bound. As they came disdainfully close to the
silent farm house, a column of pale light from a coal oil lamp came
through the living room window and haloed a neglected flower bed. Sorrow
and fear clung to the house.

The shivering shadow of a gaunt woman was etched against the half drawn
shade. The two standing outside the window called. The woman's shadow
trembled.

Then a long rigid finger of steel projected itself beneath the partially
raised window. The rifle cracked almost against the faces of the two. He
screamed hideously as his companion dropped without a sound, twitching,
twitching--he screamed again and began dragging himself away toward the
sheltering forest. Intently and desperately the rifle cracked again.

He gave up then.

He sprawled out flatly on the cool, damp, moon-bathed path. His hot
tongue lapped feverishly at the wet grass. He felt the persistent impact
of the rifle's breath against him, and now there was a wave of pain. The
full moon was fading into black mental clouds as he feebly attempted to
lift his bleeding head.

He thought with agonized irony:

"P