he rear. There were chests there,
massive metal things afire with the brilliance of inlaid jewels. The
priest flung one of them open with a resounding clang.

The room had been warm, and the chill which abruptly froze Rawson's
muscles to hard rigidity came from within himself. Dreams! He had
thought them dreams, those marching thousands, and the others who
returned. He had dared to hope he might avert an invasion by this
inhuman horde.

And now he knew his worst imaginings were far short of the truth. He
saw clearly his own fate. For the priest returning was holding an
object aloft, a horrible thing, a naked body, scorched and charred.
And above it a head lopped awkwardly. The hair was sandy; half of it
had been burned to the scalp in a withering flame. Below, staring from
sightless eyes, was the face of the man who had once been sheriff of
Cocos County.

CHAPTER XIII

"_N-73 Clear!_"

"You fly, of course?" demanded Governor Drake.

Smithy nodded. "Unlimited license--all levels."

They had spent the night in the executive mansion, and now the
Governor had burst precipitately into the room where Smithy and his
father had just finished dressing. The two had been deep in an earnest
conversation which the Governor's entrance had interrupted.

"I am drafting you for service," said the Governor. "I want you to go
out to Field Number Three. A fast scout plane--National Guard
equipment--will be ready for you--"

He broke off and stared doubtfully at a paper in his hand, a
radiophone message, Smithy judged. "I'm in a devil of a fix," the
Governor exclaimed, after a pause. Then:

"I don't doubt your sincerity," he told Smithy. "Never saw you till
yesterday, but your father's 'O.K.' goes a hundred per cent with me.
Old 'J. G.' and I have been through a lot of scraps together." His
frowning eyes relaxed for a moment to exchange twinkling glances with
the older man.

"No, it isn't that," he added, "but...." Again he stared at the flimsy
piece of paper.

"What's on your mind, Bill?" asked Smith senior. "That stuff the boy
told us was pretty wild"--he laid one hand affectionately upon
Smithy's shoulder--"but he's a poor liar, Gordon is, and, knowing his
weakness, he usually sticks to the truth. And there's no record of
insanity in the family, you know. If there's something sticking in
your crop, Bill, cough it up."

And the Honorable William B. Drake obeyed. "Listen to this," he
commanded, and read from the