CHAPTER IV.
THE MEETING.
Professor Newland and his family were living in seclusion in their Floridahome at the time the Mercutian invaders landed in Wyoming. The curiousevents in Florida, which connected them so directly with the invasion andcaused Alan later to play so vital a part in it, are so important that Iam impelled to relate them chronologically, rather than as they were toldme afterward by Alan and Beth.
When, on March 9, the news that the Mercutians had landed in Wyomingreached Professor Newland, he immediately established telegraphiccommunication with Harvard. Thus he was kept fully informed on thesituation--indeed, he saw it as a whole far better than I did.
On March 12, three days after the landing, orders from Washington weregiven out, regulating all passenger transportation in the direction of thedanger zone. One hundred miles was the limit set. State troops were placedon all trains, State roads were likewise guarded, and the State airplanepatrols united in a vigilant effort to keep outside planes from gettingin. On the 13th the President of the United States issued an appeal to allpersons living within the hundred-mile limit, asking them to leave.
On March 14 the Canadian government offered its assistance in any waypossible--its Saskatchewan airplane patrol was already helping Montanamaintain the hundred-mile limit. Similar offers were immediately made bynearly every government in the world.
Such were the first main steps taken to safeguard the people.
By March 14 the actual conditions of affairs in the threatened section ofWyoming was fairly well known. The town of Garland was destroyed by fireon the night of the 10th, and the towns of Mantua and Powell--north andsouth of Garland respectively--the following morning. On the evening ofthe 11th a government plane, flying without lights, sacrificed itself inan attempt to drop a bomb into the Mercutian camp. It was caught by thelight when almost directly over the Mercutians, and was seen to fall inflames.
It was estimated that the single light was controlling an area with aradius of about ten miles. To the south and west there was practicallynothing but desert. To the west Garland, Mantua and Powell were burned. Tothe north Deaver and Crowley--on another branch of the C., B. and Q.,about ten miles from the Mercutians--were as yet unharmed. They were,however, entirely deserted by the 15th.
During these days the Mercutians did not move from their first landingplace. Newspaper speculation regarding their capabilities for offensiveaction ran rife. Perhaps they could not move. They appeared to possess butone ray of light-fire; this had an effective radius of ten miles. The onlyother offensive weapon shown was the rocket, or bomb, that had destroyedthe C., B. and Q. train near Garland and the town itself. Reports differedas to what had set fire to the town of Powell.
All these points were less than ten miles away from the Mercutian base.Obviously, then, the danger was grossly exaggerated. The unknown invaderscould safely and easily be shelled by artillery from a much greaterdistance. Mercury had passed inferior conjunction; no other Mercutianvehicles had been reported as landing anywhere on the earth. A few days,and the danger would be over. Thus the newspapers of the country settledthe affair.
On March 14th it was announced that General Price would conduct themilitary operations against the Mercutians. Press dispatchessimultaneously announced that troops, machine guns and artillery werebeing rushed to Billings. This provoked a caustic comment from thePreparedness League of America, to the effect that no military operationsof any offensive value could be conducted by the United States againstanybody or anything.
This statement was to some extent true. During the twenty years that hadelapsed since the World War armament of all kinds had fallen into disuse.Few improvements in offensive weapons had been made. The militaryorganization and equipment of the United States, and, indeed, that of manyof the other great powers, was admittedly inadequate to cope with any verypowerful enemy.
Professor Newland telegraphed to the War Department at Washington on the14th, stating that in his opinion new scientific measures would have to bedevised to deal with this enemy, and that whatever scientific knowledge hehad on the subject was at their disposal at their request. To thistelegram the government never replied.
It was a day or two after that--on the morning of the 16th, to beexact--that the next most important development in this strange affairtook place. Alan Newland rose that morning at dawn and took his launch fora trip up one of the neighboring bayous. He was alone, and intended tofish for an hour or so and return home in time for breakfast.
He went, perhaps, three miles up the winding little stream. Then, justafter sunrise, he shut off the motor and drifted silently along. The bayousplit into two streams here, coming together again a quarter of a milefarther on, and thus forming a little island. It was just past the pointof this island that Alan shut off his motor.
He had been sitting quiet several minutes preparing his tackle, when hiseye caught something moving behind the dark green of the magnolia treeshanging over the low banks of the island. It seemed to be a flicker of redand white some five feet above the ground. Instinctively he reached forthe little rifle he had brought with him to shoot at it, thinking it mightbe a bird, although he had never seen one before of such a color.
A moment later, in the silence, he heard a rustling of the palmettos nearthe bank of the bayou. He waited, quiet, with the rifle across his knees.His launch was still moving forward slowly from the impetus of the motor.And then, quite suddenly, he came into sight of the figure of a girlstanding motionless beside a tree on the island a few feet back from thewater and evidently watching him.
Alan was startled. He knew there was no one living on the island. Therewere, in fact, few people at all in the vicinity--only an occasional negroshack or the similar shack of the "poor white trash," and a turpentinecamp, several miles back in the pines.
But it was not the presence of the girl here on the island at daybreakthat surprised him most, but the appearance of the girl herself. He satstaring at her dumbly, wondering if he were awake or dreaming. For thegirl--who otherwise might have appeared nothing more than anextraordinarily beautiful young female of this earth, somewhatfantastically dressed--the girl had wings!
He rubbed his eyes and looked again. There was no doubt about it--theywere huge, deep-red feathered wings, reaching from her shoulder bladesnearly to the ground. She took a step away from the tree and flapped themonce or twice idly. Alan could see they would measure nearly ten feet fromtip to tip when outstretched. His launch had lost its forward motion now,and for the moment was lying motionless in the sluggish bayou. Hardlyfifty feet separated him from the girl.
Her eyes stared into his for a time--a quiet, curious stare, with no hintof fear in it. Then she smiled. Her lips moved, but the soft words thatreached him across the water were in a language he could not understand.But he comprehended her gesture; it distinctly bade him come ashore. Alantook a new grip on himself, gathered his scattered wits, and tried tothink connectedly.
He laid his rifle in the bottom of the launch; then, just as he wasreaching for an oar, he saw back among the tall cabbage palms on theisland in an open space, a glowing, silvery object, like a house paintedsilver and shining under the rays of a brilliant sun.
Then the whole thing came to him. He remembered the press descriptionsfrom Wyoming of the Mercutian vehicle. He saw this white rectangle on thelittle Florida island as a miniature of that which had brought theinvaders of Wyoming from space. And then this girl--
Fear for an instant supplanted amazement in Alan Newland's heart. Helooked around. He could see back into the trees plainly, almost across theisland. He stood up in the boat. There seemed no one else in sight.
Alan sat down and, taking up the oar, sculled the launch toward the spotwhere the girl was standing. His mind still refused to think clearly. Thevague thought came to him that he might be struck dead by some unknownpower the instant he landed. Then, as he again met the girl's eyes--aclear, direct, honest gaze with something of a compelling dignity init--his fear s
uddenly left him.
A moment later the bow of the launch pushed its way through the wire grassand touched the bank. Alan laid aside his oar, tied the boat to ahalf-submerged log, and stepped ashore.