nd sweating.

Mr. Untz groaned.

"I got some of it!" yelled Eddie Tamoto from his camera. "It was
terrific! But we need more!"

Then--simultaneously--there were several loud screams of alarm. Mr.
Untz looked at the cage again. The smaller monster had found a crack,
and was moving the cage door and squeezing through.

"Harold!" shouted Mr. Untz. "_Do something!_"

Harold stepped forward. "Back everybody," he said in his best calm
voice. "Walk--do not run--to the nearest exit."

The second monster was already vibrating across the cage and the
smaller one was holding the door open for it. Dr. Mildume had tried to
maneuver the control ropes to close the door again, but hadn't been
able to work them--and now he had left his post.

Harold pointed to the man with the rifle and said, "Fire!"

The rifleman fired.

Nothing--nothing at all happened. He fired several times more. The
monsters didn't even jerk when the bullets hit them.

"They're--they're impervious yet!" cried Mr. Untz.

After that it was every man for himself.

Moments later Harold found himself outside of the sound stage and on
the studio street, bunched with the others and staring at the thick
closed door. Nobody spoke. Everybody just thrummed silently with the
knowledge that two alien monsters were in there, wreaking heaven knew
what damage....

And then, as they stared, the thick door began to open again. "It
isn't locked!" breathed Mr. Untz. "Nobody remembered to lock it
again!"

A tentacle peeked out of the crack of the door.

Everybody scattered a second time.

Harold never remembered the order in which things happened amidst the
confusion that followed. It seemed he and Mr. Untz ran blindly, side
by side, down the studio street for awhile. It seemed all kinds of
people were also running, in all kinds of directions.

Bells were ringing--sirens blew--a blue studio police car took a
corner on two wheels and barely missed them. Harold had a glimpse of
uniformed men with drawn pistols.

They ended up somehow at Mr. Untz's office-cottage. They went inside
and Mr. Untz locked the door and slammed his back to it. He leaned
there, panting. He said, "Trouble, trouble, trouble. I should have
stayed in Vienna. And in Vienna I should have stood in bed."

The door of the shower and dressing-room opened and Jimsy LaRoche came
out. He had a number of snails in his out-stretched hand and he coolly
kept them there, making no attempt to conceal his ob