* * * * *

Like Harkness, Chet Bullard held his pistol ready in his hand.
"Something else?" he inquired. "You saw something?" And Harkness
nodded grimly.

They retraced their steps. A half-mile, perhaps. It had seemed long as
they ventured forth, and was no shorter now. And the gleaming, silvery
shape of the ship was entirely lovely to their eyes as they
approached.

Harkness circled the blunt bow with its open exhaust high above his
head. On the far side was the port where they had emerged; its open
door would be welcome in its promise of safe seclusion. His sigh of
relief was echoed by the two who followed, for the horror and
apprehension had been felt by all. But the breath choked abruptly in
his throat.

Before them was the door, its thick metal wide-swung as they had left
it. But the doorway itself, where warm darkness should have invited,
was entirely sealed by a web of translucent stuff.

Harkness approached to look more closely. The substance was glistening
and smooth--yellowish--almost transparent. It was made up of a tangle
of woven cords which clung tightly to the metal sides. Harkness
reached out in sudden fury to grip it and tear it loose. He grasped
the slippery stuff, stumbled--and hung suspended by a tenacious hold
that gripped his hand where it had touched, and would not let go.

His arm swung against it, and his shoulder. They were instantly
immovable. And he knew in a single terrifying instant his utter
helplessness. He saw Chet Bullard's hands come up, and he found his
voice in time to scream a harsh warning to him.

"Tear me loose!" he commanded, "but don't touch the damned stuff!" It
took the combined strength of the pilot and the girl to free him, and
Harkness had to set his teeth to restrain an exclamation of pain as
his hand came slowly from the web that clung and clung and would not
let go.

* * * * *

From his place upon the ground he saw Chet raise a broken piece of
rock. It was like metal, and heavy, as the pilot's efforts proved,
though it was surprisingly small in size. He saw Chet raise it above
his head and crash it upon the thick web that filled the door. And, as
his own aching arm had been held, the rock was seized in the tough
strands, which gave back only slightly under the blow.

Harkness scrambled to his feet. The fury that had possessed him made
the hurt of his arm unfelt. What devil's work was this that barr