o toe, trading blows.

The screaming of the sphere grew louder. The creature by the
metal pot seemed to be calling the others over the town. The
half-formed sphere in the melting pot joined and the entire
building rang with the shrill screams.

Taylor was slowly driving Norden back toward the door of the
casting room. A tentacle of flame reached out from the monster by
the metal pot, but it only circled the men. Apparently it was
afraid to strike, for fear of destroying friend as well as enemy.

Norden's knee came up. Taylor dodged in time to avoid a crippling
blow, but the leg caught him on the thigh, sending him back and
upsetting him on the floor.

With a cry of triumph, Norden dived toward his foe. But Taylor
rolled on his back, doubled his legs and met the hurtling body
with a two-footed kick.

Norden grunted with pain. He staggered back, straight toward the
sphere by the metal pot.

A whistled warning had no effect. The momentum carried Norden
crashing into the orange nucleus of energy. There was a blinding
flash.

A small pile of glowing ashes appeared on the floor.

The whistle of the sphere stopped. It pulsed once. A feeble ray
of heat lashed out toward Taylor, but the bolt halted in mid-air.

A _plop_ cracked in Taylor's ear. The sphere disappeared like a
bursting soap bubble.

"Cap! Are you all right!"

Masters appeared in the doorway behind Taylor.

"Gosh!" His eyes settled on the pile of ashes, the remains of
Norden. He turned to Taylor. "Are you all right, Cap?"

Taylor nodded.

"Where's the sphere?" asked Masters.

"He died of frustration--or sorrow--over having killed the wrong
man," Taylor said grimly. Taylor indicated the half-formed
monster in the pot. "Now we've got to get rid of that one and all
the unhatched spores."

"If that metal pot hatches 'em, we will," said Masters. "We'll
dump the metal."

The undeveloped sphere made no move to launch a deadly bolt
toward the men. Apparently at this stage of incubation the
spheres were harmless.

"Pember!"

"Yes, sir!" the soldier appeared in the doorway, carrying his
bayonetted gun.

"Keep a lookout for other spheres. Masters and I are going to
dump this metal pot."

"Yes, sir!"

An electric motor ordinarily dumped the pot into molds, but this
motor, like everything else electrical in the plant, now was out
of commission. Masters, however, found a block and tackle and
rigged it to a beam above the pot. The hook he attached