o hint
of fear in it. Then she smiled. Her lips moved, but the soft words that
reached him across the water were in a language he could not understand.
But he comprehended her gesture; it distinctly bade him come ashore. Alan
took a new grip on himself, gathered his scattered wits, and tried to
think connectedly.

He laid his rifle in the bottom of the launch; then, just as he was
reaching for an oar, he saw back among the tall cabbage palms on the
island in an open space, a glowing, silvery object, like a house painted
silver and shining under the rays of a brilliant sun.

Then the whole thing came to him. He remembered the press descriptions
from Wyoming of the Mercutian vehicle. He saw this white rectangle on the
little Florida island as a miniature of that which had brought the
invaders of Wyoming from space. And then this girl--

Fear for an instant supplanted amazement in Alan Newland's heart. He
looked around. He could see back into the trees plainly, almost across the
island. 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 spot
where the girl was standing. His mind still refused to think clearly. The
vague thought came to him that he might be struck dead by some unknown
power the instant he landed. Then, as he again met the girl's eyes--a
clear, direct, honest gaze with something of a compelling dignity in
it--his fear suddenly left him.

A moment later the bow of the launch pushed its way through the wire grass
and touched the bank. Alan laid aside his oar, tied the boat to a
half-submerged log, and stepped ashore.

CHAPTER V.

CAPTURED!

When I recovered consciousness I found myself lying in the sand with
Mercer sitting beside me. It was still night. The tangled wreckage of our
airplane lay near by; evidently Mercer had carried me out of it.

I sat up.

"I'm all right," I said. "What happened?"

He grinned at me with relief.

"The damned engine stopped. I don't know what was the matter. You had the
light off. I couldn't see anything when we got down close."

He waved his hand toward the wrecked plane.

"It's done for," he added; "but I'm not hurt much. Are you?"

"No," I said. "I'm all right."

I climbed to my feet unsteadily; my head seemed about to split open.

"Garland's burning," he added.

Over the desert, some two or three miles away, the burning town could be
seen plainly.

"What are we goin