Astounding Stories, August, 1931

by Various

  The Moon Weed

  _By Harl Vincent_

  _Bart hacked and hacked at the rubbery growth._]

  [Sidenote: Unwittingly the traitor of the Earth, Van pits himselfagainst the inexorably tightening web of plant-beasts he has releasedfrom the moon.]

  Hobart Madison pursed his lips in a whistle of incredulous surprise ashe regarded the object that lay in the palm of his hand. An ordinarypebble, it seemed to be, but a pebble in which a strange firesmouldered and showed itself here and there through the dull surface.

  "Would you mind repeating what you just said, Van?" he asked.

  "You heard me the first time. I say that that's a diamond and that itcame from the moon." Carl Vanderventer glared at his friend inresentment of his doubting tone.

  "Mean to tell me you've been there? To the moon?"

  "Certainly not. I'm not a Jules Verne adventurer. But I'm telling youthat stone is a diamond of the first water and that it came from themoon. Weighs over a hundred carats, too. You can have it appraisedyourself if you think I'm kidding you."

  Bart Madison laughed. "Don't get sore, Van," he said. "I'm notdoubting your word. But Lord, man--the thing's so incredible! It takesa little time to soak in. And you say there are more?"

  "Sure. This one's the largest of five I've found so far. And there'sother stuff, too. Wait till you see. Fossils, beetles and things. Itell you, Bart, the moon was inhabited at one time. I've the evidenceand I want you to be the first to see it." The eyes of the youngscientist shone with excitement as he saw that his friend was rousedto intense interest.

  "So that's what all your experimenting has been aimed at. No wonder itcost so much."

  "Yes, and you've been a brick for financing me. Never asked aquestion, either. But Bart, it'll all come back to you now. Know howmuch that stone's worth?"

  "Plenty, I guess. But, forget about the financing and all that.Where's this laboratory of yours?" Madison had pushed his chair backfrom his desk and was reaching for his hat.

  "Over in the Ramapo Mountains, not far from Tuxedo. I'll have youthere in two hours. Sure you can spare the time to go out there now?"Vanderventer was enthusiastically eager.

  "Spare the time? You just try and keep me from going!"

  Neither of them noticed the sinister figure that lurked outside thedoor which led into the adjoining office. They chattered excitedly asthey passed into the outer hall and made for the elevator.

  * * * * *

  Vanderventer's laboratory was a small domed structure set in aclearing atop the mountain and well hidden from the winding road whichwas the only means of approach. Though Bart Madison, who had inheritedhis father's prosperous brokerage business, had financed his friend'sresearch work ever since the two left college, this was his firstvisit to the secluded workshop, and its wealth of equipment wasrevealed to him as a complete surprise. He had always thought of Van'sexperiments as something beyond his ken; something uncanny andmysterious. Now he was convinced.

  The most prominent single piece of apparatus in the laboratory was atwelve-inch reflecting telescope which reared its latticed frameworkto a slit in the dome overhead. Paralleling its axis and secured tothe same equatorial mounting was a shining tube of copper whichbristled with handwheels and levers and was connected by heavyinsulated cables to an amazing array of electrical machinery thatoccupied an entire side of the single room.

  "Regular young observatory you've got here, Van," Bart commented whenhe had taken all this in in one sweeping glance of appraisal.

  "Yeah, and then some. Not another like it in the world." Van wasbusying himself with the controls of his electrical equipment, and apowerful motor-generator started up with a click and a whirr as heclosed a starting switch.

  Madison watched in silence as the swift-fingered scientist fussed withthe complicated adjustments of the apparatus and then turned to themassive concrete pedestal on which his telescope was mounted. At histouch of a button the instrument swung over on its polar axis to a newposition. The slit in the dome was opened to the afternoon sky,revealing the lunar disc in its daytime faintness.

  "You can see it just as well in daylight?" Bart asked as his friendpeered through the eyepiece of the telescope and continued hisadjustments.

  "Sure, the surface is just as bright as at night. Doesn't seem so toyour eye, but it's different through the telescope. Here, take alook."

  * * * * *

  Bart squinted through the eyepiece and saw a huge crater with ashadowed spire in its center. Like a shell hole in soft earth itappeared--a great splash that had congealed immediately it was made.The cross-hairs of the eyepiece were centered on a small circularshadow near its inner rim.

  "That," Van was saying, "is a prominent crater near the Mare Nubium.The spot under the cross-hairs is that from which I have obtained thediamonds--and other things. Watch this now, Bart."

  The young broker straightened up and saw that his friend was removingthe cover from a crystal bowl that was attached to the lower end ofthe copper tube that pointed to the heavens at the same ascension anddeclination as the telescope. The air of the room vibrated to astrange energy when he closed a switch that lighted a dozen vacuumtubes in the apparatus that lined the wall.

  "You say you bring the stuff here with a light ray?" he asked.

  "No, I said with the speed of light. This tube projects a ray ofvibrations--like directional radio, you know--and this ray has acomponent that disintegrates the object it strikes and brings it backto us as dissociated protons and electrons which are reassembled inthe original form and structure in this crystal bowl. Watch."

  A misty brilliance filled the bowl's interior. Intangible shadowyforms seemed to be taking shape within a swirling maze of ethereallight that hummed and crackled with astounding vigor. Then, abruptly,the apparatus was silent and the light gone, revealing an odd objectthat had taken form in the bowl.

  "A starfish!" Bart gasped.

  "Yeah, and fossilized." Van handed it to him and he took it in hisfingers gingerly as if expecting it to burn them.

  * * * * *

  The thing was undoubtedly a starfish, and of light, spongy stone. Itscolor was a pale blue and the ambulacral suckers were clearlydiscernible on all five rays.

  "Lord! You're sure this is from the moon?" Bart turned the starfishover in his hand and gazed stupidly at his friend.

  "Certainly, you nut. Think I had it up my sleeve? But here, watchagain, there's something else."

  The crackling, misty light again filled the bowl.

  "Suppose," Bart ventured, "you bring in something large--big as ahouse, let's say. What would it do to your machine?"

  "Can't. The ray'll only pick up stuff that'll enter the bowl.Look--here's the next arrival."

  The mysterious light died down and the scientist picked up the secondobject with trembling fingers. It was a knife of beautifulworkmanship, fashioned from obsidian and obviously the work of humanhands.

  "There! Didn't I tell you?" Van gloated. "Guess that shows there wereliving beings on the moon."

  He made minute changes in the adjustment of his marvelous instrumentand Bart watched in dazed astonishment as object after objectmaterialized before their eyes. There were fragments of strangeminerals; more fossils, marine life, mostly; a roughly beaten silverplate; three diamonds, none of which was as large as what Van hadtaken to New York, but all of considerable value.

  "This'll be something for the papers, Van!" Bart Madison was visioningthe fame that was to come to his friend.

  "Yeah, all but the diamonds."

  * * * * *

  "All but the diamonds is right!"

  These words were spoken by a sarcastic voice, chill as an icicle, thatcame from the open door. They wheeled to look into the muzzles of twoautomatic pistols that were trained on them by a stocky individual whofaced them with a twisted, knowing grin.

  "Danny Kelly!" Bart gasped, raisin
g his hands slowly to the level ofhis shoulders. He knew the ex-army captain was a dead shot with theservice pistol, and a desperate man since his disgrace and forcedresignation. "What's the big idea?" he demanded.

  "You don't need to ask. Refused me a loan this morning, didn't you?Now I'm getting it this way." Kelly turned savagely on Van, proddinghis ribs with a pistol. "Get 'em up, you!" he snapped.

  Van had been slow in raising his hands, gaping in stupefied amazementat the intruder. Now he reached for the ceiling without delay.

  "You'll serve time for this, Danny!" Bart shouted.

  "Shut up! I know what I'm doing. And back up, too--where--no, theother door." Kelly was forcing him toward the door of the cellar atthe point of one pistol as he kept Van covered with the other.

  Bart clenched his fist and brought it down in a sudden sweeping blowthat raked Kelly's cheek and ear with stunning force. But the gunmanrecovered in a flash, dropped the muzzle of his pistol and pulled thetrigger. Drilled through the thigh, Bart staggered through the opendoor and fell the length of the stairs into the darkness of thecellar. Kelly laughed evilly as he slammed the door and turned thekey.

  "Hold it, you!" he snarled as he swung on Van who had dropped hishands and crouched for a spring. "If I drill you, it won't be throughthe leg. I'll take those diamonds now."

  * * * * *

  He pocketed one of his pistols, and, keeping the other pressed to thepit of Van's stomach, went through his pockets. Then he added those onthe tray by the crystal bowl to the collection, and transferred theentire lot to his own pocket.

  "Now, you clever engineer," he grinned, "we'll just operate this trickmachine of yours for a while and collect some more. Hop to it!" Hewatched narrowly as Van stretched his fingers to the controls. "Nomonkey business, either," he grated; "you'll not change a singleadjustment. I've been listening to you and I know the clock of thetelescope is keeping the ray trained on the same spot. You justoperate the ray and nothing else. Get me?"

  Van did not think it expedient to tell him of the drift caused byinaccuracies in the clock and perturbations of the moon's motion. Hewas playing for time, trying to plan a course of action.

  "There may not be any more diamonds," he offered as he tripped therelease of the ray.

  "Oh, there'll be more. Don't try to kid me."

  An irregular block of quartz materialized in the bowl and Kelly tossedit to the floor in savage disgust. Then a small diamond, very small;but he pocketed it nevertheless. The next object was a strange one--adried seed pod about six inches in length and of brilliant red color.The ray had shifted to a new position on the lunar surface. Anotherand another of the strange legumes followed, one of them bursting openand scattering its contents, bright red like the enclosing pod torattle over the floor like tiny glass beads. Kelly snorted hisdisgust.

  "Still some sort of vegetation out there," Van muttered. The eternalscientist in the man could not be downed by a mere hold-up.

  "Can the chatter!" Kelly snarled as the crystal bowl gave up anotherof the useless pods and still another. He gathered up the evidence oflunar vegetation, a half dozen of the pods, and threw them through theopen doorway with a savage gesture. "You trying to put one over onme?" he bellowed.

  "How can I?" Van retorted mildly. "I haven't touched a handwheel." Hewas wondering vaguely whether this lunar seed would grow in earthlysoil; what sort of a plant it would produce under the new environment.

  Kelly was becoming nervous now. It seemed that little was to be gainedby hanging around this crazy man's laboratory. He had a sizablefortune in rough stones already. That big one alone, when properly cutinto smaller stones, would make him independent. Maybe there weren'tany more, anyway. And the longer he stayed the greater chance therewas of getting caught.

  The advent of another of the pods decided him. A quick blow with thebutt of his pistol stretched Van on the floor and Kelly fled thescene.

  * * * * *

  Bart was pounding furiously on the cellar door when Van first tookhazy note of his surroundings. Several uncertain minutes passed beforehe was able to stagger across the room and release his friend.

  "Where is he?" Bart demanded, swaying on his feet and blinking in thesudden light.

  "Gone. Socked me and beat it with the diamonds." Van was mopping theblood from his eyes with a handkerchief. "Are you hit bad?" heinquired.

  "No, just a flesh wound. Hurts like the devil, though. How aboutyourself?" Bart limped to his side and sighed with relief when heexamined his bleeding scalp. "Not so bad yourself, old man. Where'syour first aid kit?"

  Van was still somewhat dazed and merely pointed to the cabinet. "Finepair we turned out to be!" he grumbled after his head had cleared abit under Bart's vigorous cleansing of the cut on his temple. "Here westood, meek as a couple of lambs, and let that guy get away withmurder."

  "Yeah, but those forty-fives made the difference. Ouch!" Bart wincedas his friend poured fresh iodine over the wound in his leg. "Have aheart, will you?"

  They were startled into silence by a hoarse, strangled scream thatcame from outside the laboratory. "Help! Help!" someone repeated in apanicky voice--a voice which at once ended on a gurgled note ofdespair.

  "It's Kelly!" Bart whispered. "He's come back. Something's happened tohim." He started for the open door.

  "Wait a minute. It may be a trick to get us outside where he can popus off."

  "No, it isn't. For God's sake, look!" Bart had reached the door andwas pointing at the ground with shaking forefinger.

  * * * * *

  The entire clearing seemed to be alive with wriggling things--longrubbery tentacles that crawled along the ground, reaching curling endshigh in the air and had even started climbing the trees at the edge ofthe clearing. Blood red they were, and partially transparent in thelight of the setting sun; growing things, attached by their thick endsto swelling mounds of red that seemed anchored to the ground.Translucent stalks rose from the mounds and sprouted huge buds thatburst and blossomed into flaming flowers a foot in diameter, thenwithered and went to seed in a moment of time. But always the weavingtendrils shot forth with lightning speed, reaching and feeling theiruncanny way along the ground and over tree stumps into the woods. Oneof them emerged from a hollow stump with its slender end coiled aroundthe tiny body of a chattering gray squirrel.

  "The moon flowers!" Van cried.

  "What do you mean--moon flowers?"

  "Dried seed pods. They came over into the bowl, and Kelly threw themout. Now look at the damned things. They're alive!"

  Kelly's voice came to them once more from behind the barrier ofrapidly growing vegetation. "Help!" he screeched. "I'll give back thediamonds--anything! Only get me away from the things!"

  "Ought to let 'em get him," Van growled.

  Bart shivered. "Too horrible, Van. Got an ax or anything?"

  "There's a hatchet around back. Maybe we can--"

  * * * * *

  But the young broker had scuttled around the corner of the buildingand Van looked after him anxiously. The vile red tendrils werereaching for the east wall of the laboratory, and he saw that theirinner surfaces were covered with tiny suckers like those on the armsof a devil-fish. Carnivorous plants, undoubtedly, these awfulhalf-animal, half-vegetable things whose seed had been transportedacross a quarter million miles of space. Man eaters! Deadly, andgrowing with incredible speed. Even the short-lived flowers werefearsome, as they opened their scarlet pansy-like faces and stared amoment before they folded up and shriveled into the seed cases likethose that had materialized in the crystal bowl.

  Then he noticed that the pods were opening and spreading more of theterrible seed. Nothing could stop this weird growth, now. It wouldcover the country like a sea of flaming horror, overcoming anddevouring every living thing. Cold fear clutched at Van as he realizedthe enormity of the calamity that had come to the earth.

  Bart was skirting the
edge of the clearing with the hatchet in hishand, and Van tried to call out to him, to warn him. But his voicecaught in his throat, and instead he ran to his assistance, circlingthe spreading menace to get around behind where Kelly was stillshouting. Damn Kelly anyway! This never would have happened if hehadn't come on the scene!

  Kelly was in the woods, wedged into the crotch of a tree and strikingwildly at the clutching tendrils with his clubbed pistol. They mashedeasily and dripping red, but were not to be deterred from theirghastly purpose. Kelly's time would have indeed been short had not hiserstwhile victims come to the rescue. One of the thickest of thetwining things encircled his body and had him pinned to the tree. Hisbreath was coming in gasps as its tightening coils increased theirpressure. His coarse features were livid and his eyes bulged fromtheir sockets.

  Bart hacked and hacked at the rubbery growth until he had him free;jerked him from his perch, blubbering and whining like a schoolboy.His shirt had been torn from his breast and they saw a great red weltwhere the blood had been drawn through the pores by those terriblesuckers.

  "Look out, Bart!" Van shouted.

  * * * * *

  Another of the creeping things had come through the underbrush and waswrapping its coils around Bart's ankle. Another and another wriggledthrough, and soon they were battling for their own freedom. Kellystaggered off into the woods and went crashing down the hill, leavingthem to take care of themselves as best they might.

  The stench of the viscous liquid that oozed from the injured tendrilswas nauseous; it had something of a soporific effect; and the twofriends found themselves fighting the terror in a growing mist of redthat blinded and confused them. Then, miraculously, they were free andVan assisted Bart as they ran through the forest. When they reachedthe road, weak and out of breath, they were just in time to seeKelly's roadster vanish around the bend.

  "Yeah, he'd give back the diamonds--the swine!" Van mutteredvindictively. Then, shrugging his shoulders, "Well, they won't be muchgood to him, anyway. Wouldn't be any good to us either, as far as thatgoes."

  "What do you mean? Aren't they real?" Bart was raising himselfpainfully into the seat of Van's car, his wounded leg suddenly verymuch in the way.

  "Sure they're real. But don't you realize what this thing means--thisungodly growth that's started?"

  "Why--why, no. You mean it'll keep on growing?"

  "And how! Those inner stalks drop a new batch of seeds every fiveminutes or so. Presto!--a flock of new plants spring up ten feet fromthe first; dozens of them for every pod that drops. You know howgeometrical progression works out. They'll cover the wholecountry--the whole world. Lord!"

  "Man alive, this is terrible! I hadn't thought of that before. What'llwe do?"

  "Yeah, that's the question: what can we do?" Van started his motor andjerked the car to the road. "First off, we're going to get away fromhere--fast!"

  Bart gripped his arm as he shifted into second gear. "Look, Van!" hebabbled. "They're out of the woods already. Loose! The red snakes areloose from their stalks. They're alive, I tell you!"

  It was true. Several of the slimy red things were wriggling their wayover the macadam like great earthworms, but moving with the speed ofhurrying pedestrians. Free, and untrammeled by the roots and stems ofthe mother plants, they had set forth on their own in the search forbeings of flesh and blood to destroy. Millions of their kind wouldfollow; billions!

  In sudden panic Van stepped on the gas.

  * * * * *

  Fifteen minutes later, with shrieking siren, a motorcycle drewalongside and forced them to the curb. "Where's the fire?" thesarcastic voice of a stern-visaged officer demanded, when Van hadbrought his car to a screeching stop. Seventy-five, the speedometerhad read but a moment before.

  "It's life and death, officer," Van started to explain. "We must getto the proper officials to warn the--"

  "Aw, tell it to the judge! Come on now, follow me."

  "But officer, there's death on its way from the hills, I tell you.Red, creeping things that'll be here in a couple of hours--"

  "Get away, from that wheel. I'll drive you in meself. You're fullaapplejack."

  Bart had opened the door on his side and was limping his way aroundthe back of the car. This was serious. They had to get away; had tospread the word in a way that would be believed before it was toolate. The officer was tugging at Van's arm, astonishment and blackrage showing in his weather-beaten countenance. Speeding, drunk,resisting an officer--they'd never get out of this mess! A swiftuppercut interrupted the proceedings. Bart's leg was numb and stiff,but his good right arm was working smoothly and with all its old timeprecision. His second punch was a haymaker. With his full weightbehind it, it drove straight to the chin and stretched the officer onthe concrete. Thoughtfully, Bart removed his pistol from its holsterbefore scrambling in at Van's side.

  "Boy, now we're in for it!" he gasped.

  "And we might as well make a good job while we're at it." Van let inhis clutch with a jerk, and again they were breaking all trafficregulations.

  * * * * *

  It was dusk when they roared in through the gate at the RocklandCounty Airport and pulled up at the hangar office. Van rushed in,shouting for Bill Petersen, and Bart followed. A slender, fair-hairedyouth in rumpled flying togs greeted them.

  "Bill, my friend, Bart Madison," Van blurted without pausing forbreath. "Listen, we've got to have a plane right away. Got one with aradio?"

  "Yes, but what's all the rush? Where you going?"

  "Albany. Right away. Make it snappy, will you?"

  "Sure, but what's it all about?" Young Petersen was leading them tothe field where a sleek mono-plane was in waiting as if they hadordered it. "Warm her up, Joe," he called to the mechanic.

  "Listen, Bill--I never lied to you, did I?" Van asked, when they wereseated in the plane's cabin.

  "Not that I know of. But sometimes I've thought you were lying, untilI saw with my own eyes the things you had told me about. What is itthis time?"

  "Death and destruction. Coming down out of the Ramapos. We've got towarn the country. Plants, Bill--squirmy red plants with long feelersthat can twist around a man and devour him. Half animal, they are, andthe feelers break loose and crawl by themselves. Multiplying likenothing you ever saw. Millions of them in an hour."

  "What?" Petersen stared incredulously as his motor roared into life.Then he gave his attention to the business of taking off. He jerkedthe thumb of his free hand toward the radio.

  * * * * *

  Van's expert fingers manipulated the switches and dials of theportable apparatus, and its vacuum tubes glowed into life. "2BXXcalling 2TIM," he droned into the microphone.

  "Who's that?" Bart asked. The drone of the motor was barely audible inthe closed cabin and did not interfere.

  "The _Times_. Trying to get Johnny Forbes. If anyone can get thisthing across, he can. Wait a minute, here they are." He closed hiseyes as he listened to the murmuring voice in the headphones.

  Then he was talking rapidly, forcefully, and the young flyer gazedwith owlish solemnity at Bart as they listened to his conversation. Itwas plain that Bill was but half inclined to believe, though impressedby the earnestness and evident apprehension displayed by his twopassengers.

  "Yes, 2BXX," Van was saying. "Connect me with Johnny Forbes,please--in a hurry. Yes.... Hello, Johnny, it's Van--CarlVanderventer, you know. Yes; got a scoop for you, but first I want youto get it in the broadcasts. Get me? It's about a man-eating plantthat's starting to overrun the country. No--listen now, I'm notdreaming--listen--"

  The frantic scientist rambled on and on about the seed from the moon,the red death that was creeping down from the mountains, the horror ofthe calamity as he and Bart had visioned it. Then, with a sudden noteof despair, his voice trailed off into nothingness and he turned adrawn white face to his two friends.

  "Laughed at me. Hung up on m
e," he groaned. "Good God! We've got to dosomething--quick!"

  "Be in Albany in an hour," the pilot suggested. "What you going to dothere?" He believed, now. His expression of horror showed it.

  "See the governor. But, man, it's an hour wasted! We must stir up thecountry--get the word to Washington--everywhere. It might be possibleto fight the things some way if we can mobilize State and Nationalresources quickly enough. Bill, Bart, what can we do?"

  * * * * *

  The plane sped on through the night under control of her gyro-pilot asthe three men racked their brains for a solution of the problem. If ahard-boiled newspaper man would not believe the story, who could?

  "I've got it!" Bart shouted suddenly. "Can either of you pound akey--code, I mean?"

  "Sure, I can. Then what?" Petersen returned.

  "Fake an S. O. S. Don't you see? All broadcasting has to stop, andevery ship at sea, every air liner in this part of the country'll belistening--standing by. Give 'em the story in code. Let 'em thinkwe're in a ship from the moon--captured by Lunarians who are here todestroy the world with this weed of theirs--anything. Make it as weirdas possible. Most everyone'll think it's a hoax, but there are tenthousand kids--amateurs--who'll be listening in. Somebody'll believeit, and, believe me, there'll be some investigating in theneighborhood of the growth in no time."

  "By George, I believe that'll do it!" Van exclaimed. "And thebroadcasters listen in for an S. O. S. themselves. Got to, you know,so they know when to start up again. Some smart announcer will tellthe story--maybe even believe it. The trick will work, sure asshooting!"

  * * * * *

  The pilot glanced at his instruments and saw that the automaticgyro-apparatus was functioning properly. Then he moved over to theradio and threw the switch that put the key in circuit instead of themicrophone. Rapidly he ticked off the three dots, three dashes, andagain three dots that spelled the dread danger signal of the air. Overand over he repeated the signal, and then he listened for results.

  "It worked!" he gloated, after a moment. "They're all signing off--thebroadcasters. The Navy Yard in Brooklyn gives me the go-ahead."

  He pounded out the absurd message with swift fingers, pausingoccasionally to ask a pertinent question of Van or Bart. At Van'srequest he added a warning to all residents of New York State west ofthe Hudson River and of northern New Jersey to flee their homeswithout delay. He even asked that the message be relayed to thegovernors of the two states, and that Governor Perkins of New York beadvised that they were on their way to Albany to discuss thesituation. But he balked at the story of the Lunarians, tellinginstead the equally strange truth regarding the origin of the deadlygrowth, and adding the names of Van and Bart to lend authenticity tothe tale.

  Then he signed off and switched the radio receiver to the loud speakerbefore returning to the pilot's seat.

  Bart tuned in on the various broadcasters as they resumed theirprograms, finally settling on WOR, Newark, whose announcer wasreading the strange message to his radio public with appropriatecomment. A crime and an outrage he called it, an affront to theindustry and to the public. An insult to the government of the UnitedStates. But wait! A telephone call had just been received at thestation from the village of Sloatesburg. A reputable citizen of thattown had reported the red growth at the edge of the State road--hugered earthworms wriggling across the concrete. Another call, andanother! The announcer's voice was rising hysterically.

  "It _did_ work, Bart," Van exulted. "Now the hell starts popping."

  * * * * *

  Governor Perkins met them in person when they arrived at the MunicipalAirport in Albany. A great crowd had gathered in the shadows outsidethe brilliance of the flood lights, and a police escort rushed them tothe governor's private car.

  "Here's where you go to the Bastille for socking that cop," Vanobserved. His spirits had risen appreciably since that successful S.O. S. call.

  But the governor was in a serious mood, as they made their way towardthe executive mansion through the milling crowds that lined the hillystreets of the capital city of New York State. Proofs had not beenlacking of the truth of Bill Petersen's radio warning. Already thespreading red death had covered a circle some eight miles in diameter,covering farm lands and destroying the crops, blocking the roads andtrapping many on the streets and in their homes in nearby towns. Morethan a hundred had lost their lives, and thousands were fleeing thethreatened area. The country was in an uproar.

  "Gentlemen," the governor said, when they had reached the privacy ofhis chambers, "this is a serious matter, and no time must be lost indealing with it. Nevertheless, I want you, Mr. Vanderventer, to tellyour story of the thing to me and to the radio system of the UnitedStates Secret Service. The President himself will be listening, aswill the chief executives of most of the states. Hold nothing back, asthe fate of our people is at stake."

  * * * * *

  So Van faced the microphone and related the history of his work in thelittle laboratory in the Ramapo Mountains. He told of his interest inthe earth's satellite, and of his first unsuccessful experiments withultra-telescopes in the endeavor to explore its surface close at hand;of the failure of a space-ship he had built; of the final discovery ofthe ray, by means of which it was possible to transport solid objectsfrom the one body to the other. He told of the discovery of man-maderelics and of fossils; he told of the diamonds, and of the attack byDan Kelly which had resulted in the spreading of the seed of thedeadly moon weed. He even related the incident of the trafficpoliceman, at which the governor smiled.

  "That has been reported," he said, "and you need have no fear on thatscore.--The charges will be dropped. I now ask that you give us youropinion as to the best method of combatting this new enemy. Have youany ideas?"

  "I have not, sir," Van replied gloomily, "though I believe it can bedone only from the air. Possibly bombing, or a gas of some sort--Idon't know. It will take time, Mr. Governor."

  "Yes, and meanwhile the thing is overwhelming us at what rate?"

  "As nearly as I can estimate it, the growth is moving with a speed offour or five miles an hour."

  "By morning you expect it will have traveled forty or fifty miles inall directions?"

  "I'm afraid so."

  A sharp buzz from the instrument on the governor's desk interruptedthem. "The President," he whispered.

  "That is enough, Governor," came the husky tones of President Alford'svoice. "I shall communicate with Secretary Makely at once. Allavailable army bombing-planes will be rushed to the scene. You, sir,will mobilize the militia, as will the governors of the other states.Meanwhile, this young scientist is to report to the Bureau ofScientific Research in Washington--to-night. Have him bring a supplyof these seeds with him."

  That was all. Governor Perkins offered no comment, but merely rosefrom his seat to indicate that the discussion was ended. A solemnsilence reigned in the room.

  "Let's go!" exclaimed Bill Petersen suddenly, unawed by the presenceof the governor. "My ship's waiting, and we can stop off for a coupleof those pods and still make Washington in two hours. Come on!"

  Governor Perkins smiled. "Good luck, boys," he said, as they wereushered from the room. "My car will return you to the airport. Andremember, the country will be watching you now, and expecting muchfrom you. Good-by."

  They were to recall his words in the dark days ahead.

  * * * * *

  Before they had reached Newburgh, they saw a dull red glow in theskies that told them the news broadcast to which they had beenlistening had not exaggerated. The red growth was luminous indarkness. Off there to the south-west, it was as if a vast forest firewere lighting the heavens. No wonder the panics and rioting weregetting out of control of the police!

  Coming up over Bear Mountain, they caught their first glimpse of thesea of fire that was the red death by night. Like a vast bed ofglowing embers
it covered the countryside, extending eastward toHaverstraw where it was temporarily halted by the broad Hudson. It wasa shimmering, undulating mass of living, luminous things, eating theirhorrible way through all organic matter that stood in their path.Writhing, squirming, all-absorbing monsters that sent out an advanceguard of independent snake-like tendrils to capture and hold for thelagging mother-plants whatever of live stock and humanity they wereable to find.

  "Think they'll get over the river, Van?" Bart asked.

  "Sure they will. Every fugitive who had a narrow escape after being incontact with the things is a potential carrier of the seed. I foundseveral of them sticking to my clothing after we got away. I picked acouple off your coat, but didn't tell you."

  "Lord! What did you do with them?"

  "Put them in the ash receiver in my car--like a fool. Wouldn't have togo down for more if I'd kept them."

  "Well, it can't be helped now. We'll have a job getting some downthere now, too."

  "I'll say so." Van lapsed into gloomy silence.

  * * * * *

  They were over the landing field above Tomkins Cove, and Bill turnedon the siren whose raucous shriek operated the mechanism of thefloodlight switches by sound vibrations. The field sprang into instantillumination, and they circled it once before swooping to a landing.They were but a mile from the advancing terror.

  The field was deserted, and the three men started off immediately inthe direction of the oncoming weed.

  "We'll have to make it snappy," Van grunted. "We've got about twelveminutes to get the pods and get back to the ship. The damn things'llbe here by that time."

  They scrambled over fences and pushed through thickets. The lightedwindows of a deserted farmhouse were directly ahead, and they ranthrough the open gate and across the fields. Ever, the glow of theweed grew brighter. A terrified horse galloped wildly past them andcrashed into the fence, whinnying piteously as it went down with abroken leg. They could see the red rim of the advancing horror justbeyond the road.

  One of the detached tendrils slithered past, each glowing coildistinctly visible.

  "Lucky the things can't see!" Bart shuddered.

  "Yeah," said Van. "Have to dodge 'em to get in close enough to one ofthe plants. Keep your eyes peeled now, you fellows, in case one of usgets caught."

  A terrific explosion rocked the ground. They had paid no heed to theroaring of motors overhead. The bombers were on the job! Shootingskyward, a column of flame not a hundred yards from them showed wherethe high explosive had landed in the red mass. Then, slimy wrigglingthings rained all about them, fragments of the red weed that stillsquirmed and crawled and clung. Bill Petersen yelled and clutched athis neck where one of the things had taken hold.

  Another warning whistle of a falling bomb. Crash! More of the horrorraining down and splattering as it fell. Whistle--crash! A huge blobof quivering, luminous jelly fell before them--a portion of one of themother-plants. Crash! Crash!

  "Run!" Van shouted. "Run for the plane. We'll never make it now. Damnthose bombers, anyway!"

  All along the advancing front, the bombs were bursting, shattering theair with their detonations and scattering the glowing red stems andtendrils in all directions. The din was appalling, and the increasingbrightness of the crimson glow added to the horror of the situation.Stumbling and cursing, they ran for the plane.

  "Fools! Fools!" Bill was shouting. "Can't they see the field and theplane? Why in the devil are they dropping them so near?"

  * * * * *

  Then Bart was down, clawing at a three-foot length of red tendril thathad fallen on him and borne him to the earth.

  "Bart! Bart!" Van turned back and was tearing at the thing withfingers that were slippery with the sap that oozed from its torn skin.Monstrous earthworms! Cut them apart and each portion lived on, tookon new vigor. And these vile things could sting like a jellyfish!Where each sucker touched the skin a burning sore remained.

  Bill helped them break away from the thing, and all three fought ontoward the lights of the landing field. Only a short way off now; itseemed they would never reach it. The bombers were dropping theirmissiles with unceasing regularity, and the red death only spread thefaster.

  When they scrambled into the cabin of the plane, the red wall ofcreeping horror was almost upon them. Advancing speedily out from thered-lit darkness, it seemed to halt momentarily, when it emerged intothe brilliance of the great arc-lights which illuminated the field.Then, more slowly and with seemingly purposeful deliberation, thewriggling feelers reached out from the mass and bore down upon them.Bill slammed the door and latched it, then fumbled frantically withthe starter switch. A most welcome sound was the answering roar ofthe motor.

  The pilot yanked his ship into the air, taking off with the windrather than running the risk of remaining on the ground long enough totaxi around and head into it. The plane acted like a frightened birdas Bill struggled with the controls, darting this way and that, andonce missing a crash by inches as the tail was lifted by thetreacherous ground wind. Then they were clear, and slowly gainedaltitude in a steep climb.

  "Whew!" Van exclaimed, mopping his red-splattered forehead with hishandkerchief. "That was a narrow squeak, boys. And we haven't got theseeds yet--unless we can find a few on our clothing."

  "Who said so?" Bart gloated. "Look at this."

  He opened his clenched fist and disclosed one of the pods, unbrokenand gleaming horribly scarlet in the dim light of the cabin. Billheaved a sigh of relief as he banked the ship and swung around towardthe south. He had dreaded another landing near the sea of moon weed.Van chortled over their good fortune as he examined the mysteriouspod. One good thing the bombers had done, anyway! Blew one of thethings into his friend's hands.

  * * * * *

  Bart and the young pilot found themselves very much out of the picturewhen they reported with Van at the Research Building in Washington.The Government had no use for them in this emergency: it was thescientist they wanted, and he was immediately rushed into conferencewith the heads of the Bureau. His two friends were left to shift forthemselves, and they joined the crowds in the street.

  The name of Carl Vanderventer was on everyone's tongue. Cursing andreviling him, they were, for the hare-brained experiment which hadbeen the cause of the terrible disaster. Fools! Bart seethed with rageand nearly came to blows with a number of vociferous agitators whowere advocating a necktie-party. Why hadn't the officials publishedthe entire story as Van told it over the Secret Service radio? Therewas no mention of Dan Kelly in the broadcast news, nor of the factthat the police were searching for him in every city and town in thecountry. Another instance of the results of secrecy in governmentalactivities!

  "We'd better find ourselves a room and turn in," Bart growled. "Let'sget out of this mob before I slam somebody."

  Bill Petersen was only too willing. He was suddenly very tired.

  In the Willard Hotel they were assigned to an excellent room, and Bartinsisted on switching on the broadcasts and listening to the news. Farinto the night he sat by the loud-speaker, or paced the floor as anexceptionally calamitous happening was reported. But Bill sleptthrough it all.

  The army bombers had been recalled. Their efforts had worked more harmthan good. The invincible moon weed now had crossed the Hudson Riverat Nyack and Piermont. Tarrytown was overrun, and many of theinhabitants had lost their lives either in the maws of the insatiablemonsters or in the panics and rioting that accompanied the evacuationof the town.

  * * * * *

  New Jersey was covered as far south as New Brunswick, and west toPhillipsburg and Belvidere. At Mauch Chunk the contents of twenty oiltanks had been diverted to the Delaware River, and the floating oilfilm was proving at least a temporary protection to a considerableportion of the state of Pennsylvania. In New York State the growthhad buried hill and valley, town and village, as far as Monticello,and, along t
he Hudson, extended as far north as Kingston. AtPoughkeepsie, on the opposite side of the river, frantic householdershad armed themselves with rifles and shotguns, and were killing offall refugees who attempted to land from boats at that point. But themilitia was on guard at the bridges, assuring safe crossing to thethousands who fled the red death over these routes. There was nokeeping the seed of the moon weed from finding its way east.

  At some points fire had been used with considerable success as abarrier, hundreds of acres of forest lands being destroyed in theendeavor to stem the crimson tide. But, after the ashes were cool,germination would recur, and the weed would continue on its triumphantway. Acid sprays and poison-gas of various kinds had been triedwithout appreciable effect. The casualty estimates already ran intothe tens of thousands; rumor had it that nearly one hundred thousandhad lost their lives in the city of Newark alone. There was no way inwhich the figures could be checked while everything was in a state ofconfusion.

  Communication lines were broken, roads blocked, gas and electricsupply systems paralyzed and the railroads helpless. Trains could notbe driven through the glutinous, wriggling mass that piled high on thetracks. Only the radio and the air lines were operative in thestricken area, and even these were of little value to the unfortunateswho, in many cases, were surrounded and cut off from all hope ofsuccor.

  At four in the morning, with aching heart and reeling brain, Bartthrew himself on the bed without undressing and fell into the troubledsleep of exhaustion and despair.

  * * * * *

  The next day brought no encouragement, though it was reported that thegrowth developed with less rapidity after sunrise than it had duringthe night. Bart endeavored to get Van on the telephone, but was curtlyinformed by the operator at the Research Building that no incomingcalls could be transferred to the laboratory where he was working.Knowing his friend, he pictured him as working feverishly with theGovernment engineers and giving no thought to sleep or food. He'd killhimself, sure! But such a death, even, was preferable to the red oneof the moon weed.

  The Canadians and Mexicans had been quick to protect their borders andforbid the landing of any American aircraft or the passage of trainsand automobiles. But the seed had reached Europe, one of thetwelve-hour night air-liners having carried a thousand refugees whohad sufficient foresight and the means to engage passage. It was aworld catastrophe they faced!

  By mid-afternoon the streets of Washington were almost deserted. Itwas less than twenty-four hours since the first moon seed took root,and already the crimson growth had progressed nearly a hundred milessouthward from the point of origin! Another twenty or thirty hours andit would reach the capital city--unless Van and those engineers overin the Research Building discovered something; a miracle.

  Bart tried the telephone once more and was overjoyed when theoperator, all apologies now, informed him that Van had been trying toreach him for several hours.

  "Listen, old man," his friend's voice came over the wire: "I've beenworried as the devil not knowing where you were. I want you and Billto stick around where I can get you at any time. I may need you. Whereare you staying?"

  "The Willard. Have you doped out something?" Bart answered in quickexcitement.

  "Maybe. Can't let anything out yet--not till we've tested itthoroughly. But I can tell you that a hundred factories are alreadyworking on machines we've devised. By good luck it only means minorchanges to an apparatus that is on the market in large quantity."

  "Great stuff. The city's nearly emptied itself, you know, and, boy,how they've been razzing you over the radio and in the papers--howlingfor your hide, the whole country."

  "I know." Van's voice was calm, but Bart sensed in it something of acold fury that was new to him in his friend. The young scientist wasbitterly resentful of the attitude of the public.

  "Can we see you, Van?"

  "No, nor call me either. Better hang around the hotel and wait for acall from me. So long now, Bart. I've got to get busy."

  "So long."

  Bart gazed solemnly at Bill Petersen, who had been listeningabstractedly to the one-sided conversation. Bill had given up hope andwas resigned to the inevitable.

  "Says he may need us, Bill," said Bart.

  "Yeah? Well, we'll be ready for anything he wants us to do. It's nouse though--anything."

  "What do you mean--no use? You never saw Van licked yet, did you?"

  "Sure I did. By his super-telescopes and the rocket ship."

  "But this is different." Bart was a staunch defender of his friend. Heglared at Bill for a moment and then switched on the news broadcastwhich he knew he detested.

  * * * * *

  The progress of the moon weed continued unabated. In the city of NewYork a million souls were reported as having lost their lives, andthis in spite of the difficulty experienced by the uncanny moon weedin obtaining a foothold in Manhattan. It had been thought that theasphalt and concrete would prove an effective barrier, and so they didfor a time. But, with the seed active in the parks and along the waterfronts, it was not long before the powerful roots of the greedy plantsworked their way underneath, ripping up pavements and wriggling intocellars as they progressed. The city was a mass of wreckage and amaelstrom of fighting, dying humanity.

  Whole regiments of the National Guard were wiped out as they foughtoff the weed with ax and bayonet, in the effort to provide time forthe refugees to clear from their homes in certain localities. Alltransportation facilities to the south and west were taxed to theutmost. There was fighting and killing for the possession ofautomobiles and planes and for room in trains and buses. Air-lineterminals and railroad stations were the scenes of dreadful massacresas the police and military guards fought off the crazed and desperatecreatures who attacked them en masse. And still the news announcersprated of the responsibility of one Carl Vanderventer.

  The telephone bell rang, and Bart answered it in relief. At last theywere to see some action! But no, it was merely the desk clerk,notifying him that all employees were leaving the hotel and that theywould be left to shift for themselves. Yes, there was plenty of foodin the kitchens; they were welcome to it. And a permanent telephoneconnection would be made to their room. The frightened clerk wishedthem luck.

  * * * * *

  In endless monotone, the voice of the news announcer droned on.Binghamton and Elmira, Albany and Schenectady, New Haven,Philadelphia, Allentown--all had succumbed. The casualty estimates nowran into the millions. The mist, the red mist that rose from thesteaming weed, was drifting westward and spreading the seed with everincreasing rapidity. For now the monstrous growth from out the sky wasadapting itself to its environment; providing the seed with featherytufts that permitted the winds to carry them far and wide like theseed of a dandelion.

  "Turn off that damn thing!" Bill shouted. And he jumped to his feet,his eyes glinting strangely in the twilight gloom of the room. Billwas close to the breaking point.

  "Guess you're right," Bart mumbled. "Not good for either of us tolisten to that stuff." He switched off the receiver, and they sat insilence as darkness fell over the city.

  Bill shivered and felt for the button of the electric light which hepressed with a trembling finger. They blinked in the suddenillumination, but it cheered them somewhat. It was not good to sit inthe darkness and think. Besides, they knew that the turbine generatorsof Potomac Edison were still running. Some brave souls were stickingto their jobs--for a time, at least.

  "God!" Bill suddenly groaned, after an endless time of dead silence."My sister! Lives in Pittsburgh, you know. Wonder if she and the kidsgot away. It won't be long before the damn stuff gets there."

  Bart thanked his lucky stars that he had no family ties. "Oh, they'vehad plenty of warning," he tried to console Bill. "Hours, you know;and the westbound lines are in good shape from there. I wouldn't worryabout them if I were you."

  There was utter silence once more. Even the customary s
treet noiseswas lacking. Both men jumped nervously when the shrill siren of apolice motorcycle sounded in the distance. Bart thought grimly of hisfracas with the officer who had tried to arrest Van. How long ago thatseemed, and how inconsequential an incident!

  Their windows faced north, and by midnight they could make out the redglow of the moon weed, that awful band of flickering crimson thatpainted the horizon the color of blood. The telephone clamored forattention and Bill stifled a hysterical sob as the terrifying soundbroke the eery stillness.

  Van was on the way to get them! He had a Government car and they wereto go to Arlington for Bill's plane. Then what? He refused to commithimself: they must follow him blindly. Anything was better than thisinactivity, though. Bart shouted with glee.

  * * * * *

  "We're going north," Van replied shortly, in answer to Bart's questionwhen they entered the official car in front of the hotel, "after DanKelly."

  "After Dan Kelly? Got a line on him?"

  "Yes. Secret Service reports him in Toronto. The Canucks are after himnow, but, by God, I'm going to get him myself!"

  Van was haggard and wan, his eyes gleaming with a fanatical light. Thestrain had done something to him--something Bart didn't like at all.This was a different Van from the man who had entered his office twodays previously. Unshaven and unkempt, he looked and talked like adrunken man on the verge of delirium tremens.

  "What's the idea, Van?" he asked gently.

  "I'm going to get him. I tell you. The scum! It's his fault the wholeworld's against me. I'll get him, Bart; I'll kill him with my barehands!"

  So that was it! The combination of gruelling labor in the effort tosave mankind from the dread moon weed, and bitter censure from thevery people he was trying to save, had been too much for Van. He haddeveloped a fixation, unreasoning and murderous; he'd get even withthe man who had caused the trouble. And nothing could deter him fromhis purpose: Bart could see that. Might as well humor him and helphim. It made little difference, anyway, with the red doom spreading atits present rate. They'd all be victims in a few days.

  They were speeding through the streets of Washington at a break-neckrate. Van bent over the wheel, and like a demented man glued hiswildly staring eyes to the road.

  "What about your work?" Bart asked, after a while. "Has anything beenaccomplished?"

  "Yes and no. They'll be ready to shoot in a few hours. Don't knowwhether it'll be a complete success or not. But I sneaked away anyhow.This other thing's more important to me right now."

  "What's the dope? Can you tell us now?"

  "Sure. I've got one of the machines in the car and I'll explain whenwe're on our way to Canada."

  This wasn't like Van. Never secretive and always in good humor, he wastreating his friends like annoying strangers.

  "You can't land in Canada," Bill ventured, as they pulled up at thegate of the airport.

  "Like hell I can't! You watch my smoke, and let any bloody Canuck upthere try and stop me!"

  He was lifting a small black case from the luggage carrier of the caras he replied. Bart silenced the airman with a look.

  * * * * *

  When they had taken off and were well under way, Van opened his blackcase and set a vacuum-tube apparatus in operation. They were nearingthe fringe of the glowing sea of red that was the vast blanket of moonweed. It now extended to within a few miles of Baltimore and stretchednorthward as far as the eye could see.

  "It was a cinch," Van was explaining. "When I first saw that thegrowth slowed up under the arc-lights at Tomkins Cove it gave me theglimmering of an idea. Then, on the following day, when we learnedthat the weed spread more slowly in sunlight, I was convinced. Thestuff is dormant on the moon, you know."

  "Why?" Bart asked breathlessly.

  "Because there is no atmosphere surrounding the moon, and the sun'srays are not filtered before they reach its surface as they are here.The invisible rays, ultra-violet and such, are present in fullproportion. And the moon weed can not flourish when subjected to lightof the higher frequencies. It died out when the moon lost itsatmosphere, and only revived on being brought to earth--probably amillion times more prolific in our dense and damp atmosphere and richsoil. The thing's a cinch to dope out."

  "Yeah!" Bart commented drily. Van was now talking and he could havebitten off his tongue for interrupting him.

  This machine of Van's was a generator of invisible light in theultra-indigo range, Van explained. You couldn't see its powerful beam,but they had proved in the laboratory that it was certain doom to themoon weed. They had grown the stuff from seed in steel cages, andplayed with it until they were all satisfied. Now would come the finaltest. Ten thousand planes were being equipped with the new generator,which was merely an adaptation of standard directional televisiontransmitters, and to-night these would start out to fight the weed. Itwas a cinch!

  * * * * *

  Beneath them the red cauldron seethed and tossed as they spednorthward; the crimson blanket of death that was steadily covering thecountry.

  "Drop to a thousand feet, Bill," the scientist called, "and then watchbelow. But, don't slow down. We've got to get to Toronto!"

  The ship nosed down and soon leveled off at the prescribed altitude.Van's vacuum tubes lighted to full brilliancy, and a black spotappeared on the glowing surface just beneath them, a black spot thatextended into a streak as the plane continued on its way. They werecutting a swath of blackness fifty feet wide through the heart of thegrowth!

  "See that!" Van gloated. "It's killing them by millions! And the bestof it is the effect it leaves behind. The soil is permeated to a depthof several inches and the stuff will not germinate in the spots wherethe ray has contracted. Oh, it works to perfection!"

  Bill was exuberant; his hopes revived miraculously. He gave his motorthe gun and got out of it every last revolution that it could turn up.He must get Van to Canada! Not such a bad idea, this going afterKelly, at that!

  Bart was voluble in his praise, then caught himself short as heremembered that he had doubted Van but a half hour previously: doubtedhim and despaired. Now Van, lapsing into gloomy silence after histriumph, was again thinking of nothing but revenge. The getting of DanKelly meant more to him now than the extinction of the moon weed.

  * * * * *

  When they landed at the Toronto Airport they were welcomed with openarms instead of with rifle fire as Bill had anticipated. The news hadgone forth. Already a thousand planes flying over the United Stateswere driving back the sea of destruction. The invisible ray was asuccess, and the name of Carl Vanderventer was now a thing with whichto conjure, rather than one on which to heap imprecation and insult.Van grimaced wryly at this last bit of news.

  Danny Kelly? No one at the airport had ever heard of him. Vantelephoned in to the city; to Police Headquarters. Yes, they hadapprehended the fugitive American at the request of Washington, but hewas a slippery customer. He had escaped. Van raged and fumed.

  Of what use were the congratulations of the night flyers who stillloitered in the hangar; of what consolation the radio reports of thesuccess of the ultra-indigo ray in the States and in Europe? He hadcome after his man and he'd failed. Defeat was a bitter pill.

  The news broadcasts from the States were jubilant and becameincreasingly so during the night. The moon weed was being driven backon a wide front and by morning would be entirely surrounded. Therewould be no further loss of life and little more destruction ofproperty. Carl Vanderventer had saved the day! Van grunted his disgustwhenever an announcer mentioned his name.

  When daylight came they prepared to return. Little use there was ofsearching the highways and byways of Canada for the fugitive. He'dsimply have to wait until the Canadians were able to get a line on DanKelly again.--It was maddening! But Bart was glad. The light of reasonwas returning to his friend's eyes in the reaction.

  Then there was a telephone call from
the city for Van. PoliceHeadquarters wanted him. The fanatical glint returned to his eyes whenhe ran for the hangar to answer the call. Perhaps they had alreadycaptured Kelly! And he had an order in his pocket for the man'sreturn to the States. He'd been made a deputy, and with Kelly releasedto him anything might happen. Something would happen.

  * * * * *

  But the police were reporting the unexplainable reappearance of themoon weed just outside the city limits at a point near Cookesville.Would Mr. Vanderventer be so kind as to fly over there and destroy itbefore any lives were lost? He would.

  The growth had covered an acre of ground by the time they reached thespot designated. But it was the work of only a minute to blast it outof existence with the ultra-indigo ray. Van surveyed the blackened andshriveled mass with satisfaction.

  "Let's land and take a look at it," he said.

  Bart thought he saw a look of exultation flash over his carewornfeatures.

  Soon they were wading deep in the blackened remains of the moon weed.The stems and tendrils snapped and crumbled into powder as they passedthrough. The stuff was done for, no question of that.

  Bill Petersen yelled and pointed a shaking forefinger at an objectthat lay in the blackened ruin. It was a human skeleton, the bonesbare of flesh and gleaming white in the light of the early morningsun. Van was on his knees, quick as a flash, feeling around thegrewsome thing: pawing at the shreds of clothing that remained.

  Then he was on his feet, his face shining with unholy glee. In hishands were a half dozen small, smooth objects which looked likepebbles. The diamonds!

  "I thought so!" he exclaimed. "It's Kelly. Only way the seed couldhave gotten up here. He had some on his clothes and didn't know it. Icouldn't get him myself--but anyway I'm satisfied."

  * * * * *

  He staggered and would have fallen, had not Bart caught him in hisarms. Poor old Van! Nearly killed him, this thing had, but he'd behimself again, after it was all over. No wonder he'd gone out of hishead with the horror of it, and the blame that had been so cruellylaid on him! No wonder he'd become obsessed with this idea of gettingsquare with Dan Kelly! But now he was content: sleeping like a babe inBart's arms.

  Tenderly they carried him to the plane and laid him out on thecushions in back. They'd let him sleep as long as he could; return himto Washington where he'd receive his just dues in recognition for hisservices. Then would follow the work of reconstruction andrehabilitation. Van would glory in that.

  Bart regarded his sleeping friend thoughtfully as they winged theirswift way toward the American border. The harsh lines that had showedin his face during the past few hours were smoothed away and in theirplace was an expression of deep contentment. He was at peace with theworld once more. Good old Van.

  What a difference there would be when he awakened to full realizationof the changed order of things! What satisfaction and relief!

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