lights of the planes had drawn into a circle, a great
whirlpool of lines that revolved above a mile-wide section of that
valley.

Beside Smithy a wheel control was moving. He clung to the pilot's seat
as their own plane banked and nosed downward. And now he shouted aloud
to Culver:

"The mole-men! There they are! Thousands of them!"

* * * * *

He was pointing between the two pilots as their own plane swept down.
He could see them plainly now, clotted masses of dark figures surging
frenziedly to and fro. For an instant he saw them--then that part of
the world where they had been was a seething inferno of bursting bombs
and shells.

Beside him Colonel Culver spoke quietly: "Caught them cold! That's
handing it to them."

Their own plane had leveled off. With motors throttled they were
drifting slowly past, only a thousand feet higher than the circling
planes just off at one side. Culver's quiet tones rose to a hoarse
shout: "The ships! My God, they're falling!"

His wild cry ended in a gasp. Beside him Smithy, in breathless horror,
like Culver, was staring at that whirlpool of tiny lights that had
gone suddenly from smooth circular motion into frenzied confusion, or
vanished in the yellow glare of exploding gas tanks. The light of
their own white flares picked them out in ghastly clarity as they
fell.

Straight, vertical lines of yellow were burning planes. Again they
made horrible zigzag darts and flashed down into view torn and
helpless, while others, tens and scores of others with crumpled wings,
joined the mad dance of death.

Smithy knew that he could never tear his eyes away from the sight. Yet
within him something was clamoring for his attention. "They didn't do
it from below!" that something was shouting. "Not down in that hell.
There are more of them somewhere." Then somehow, he forced his eyes to
stare ahead and outside of that circle of fearful fascination and he
knew that for an instant he was seeing a single stab of green flame.

* * * * *

One single light on the darkness of a little knoll that stood close
beside this place of white flame and destruction. One light--and in
the valley there had flashed a million brighter. It had shone but an
instant, but, to Smithy, watching, it was the same he had seen when
their own camp was attacked. And now it was Smithy who was abruptly
stone cold.

One hand closed upon a pilot's shoulder wit