metal at the
controls would discover and wreck our last hope.

No, I must walk boldly into the bombed area and discover myself as
alive in the visors of the planes and make them continue to bomb and
throw their search-rays on the scarred plain. That meant the
disintegrator would receive the vital light.

But how about Keston? I couldn't leave him there on the ground,
motionless, while I deserted him. Nor could I take him with me. I was
prepared to take my chances with almost certain death, but I could not
trifle with his life so. I was in an agony of indecision.

* * * * *

Just then the form on my aching shoulder stirred, sighed, struggled a
bit, and suddenly slid down to a standing position. Keston swayed
unsteadily a moment, straightened, looked about him in amazement.

"What's happening here?" he demanded.

"Why, you old war horse," I shouted in my relief, "I thought you were
out of the picture completely!"

"Not me," he answered indignantly. "I'm all right. But you haven't
answered my question."

A terminite bomb exploded not so far away from where we stood. I
ducked involuntarily, Keston doing likewise.

"There's the answer," I grinned, "and a rather neat one, too. But I'll
explain."

In a few words I sketched what had happened, and showed him the
disintegrator spreading its deadly waves of destruction. By now there
was a torrent enveloping us up to our knees. We would have to move
soon, or be drowned in the slowly rising water.

Then, hesitatingly, I told him of my scheme to keep the search-rays in
action. His lean face sobered, but he nodded his head bravely. "Of
course, that is the only way to keep them at it. You and I will start
at once, in separate directions, so that if they get one, the other
will continue to draw the search-rays down on the plain, and into the
disintegrator."

"Not you, Keston," I dissented in alarm. "Your life is too valuable.
Your brain and skill will be needed to remodel the world and make it
habitable for the few prolats that are left, after the machines are
wiped out."

"You're just as valuable a man as I am," he lied affectionately. "No,
my mind is made up. We chance this together." And to all my pleadings
he was obdurate, insisting that we each take an equal risk.

I gave in at last, with a little choke in my throat. We shook hands
with a steady grip, and walked out into the glare of light, on
divergent paths. Would I ever see my fr