ground. They
were silent a moment, awed by the frightful power they had loosed.

"Well, Mart," Seaton broke the silence, "I'll say those one-milligram
loads are plenty big enough. If that'd been something coming after
us--whether any possible other-world animal, a foreign battleship, or
the mythical great sea-serpent himself, it'd be a good Indian now. Yes?
No?"

"Yes. When we use the heavier charges we must use long-range rifles.
Have you had enough demonstration or do you want to shoot some more?"

"I've had enough, thanks. That last rock I bounced off of was no pillow,
I'll tell the world. Besides, it looks as though I'd busted a leg or two
off of our noble steed with my shot, and we may have to walk back home."

An examination of the plane, which had been moved many feet and almost
overturned by the force of the explosion, revealed no damage that they
could not repair on the spot, and dusk saw them speeding through the air
toward the distant city.

In response to a summons from his chief, Perkins silently appeared in
Brookings' office, without his usual complacent smile.

"Haven't you done anything yet, after all this time?" demanded the
magnate. "We're getting tired of this delay."

"I can't help it, Mr. Brookings," replied the subordinate. "They've got
detectives from Prescott's all over the place. Our best men have been
trying ever since the day of the explosion, but can't do a thing without
resorting to violence. I went out there myself and looked them over,
without being seen. There isn't a man there with a record, and I haven't
been able so far to get anything on any one of them that we can use as a
handle."

"No, Prescott's men are hard to do anything with. But can't you...?"
Brookings paused significantly.

"I was coming to that. I thought one of them might be seen, and I talked
to him a little, over the phone, but I couldn't talk loud enough without
consulting you. I mentioned ten, but he held out for twenty-five. Said
he wouldn't consider it at all, but he wants to quit Prescott and go
into business for himself."

"Go ahead on twenty-five. We want to get action," said Brookings, as he
wrote an order on the cashier for twenty-five thousand dollars in
small-to-medium bills. "That is cheap enough, considering what
DuQuesne's rough stuff would probably cost. Report tomorrow about four,
over our private phone--no, I'll come down to the cafe, it's safer."

* * * * *