nnerved, but after a moment we got ourselves
together and talked calmly about what was best for us to do.

We concluded finally to go ahead to the road. We calculated we were not
over two miles from the nearest part of it. We would strike it about
halfway between Garland and Mantua, and we thought it just possible we
would find passing along it some refugees from the two towns. I couldn't
quite see how meeting them could help us any, unless we encountered some
vehicle that would give us a lift. However, the walking would be easier,
and when we got to the road we could decide which way to go--north to
Frannie, or south around Garland to Powell.

The sun was just rising when we started again. It took us nearly an hour
to reach the road. As far as we could see it was deserted. We stopped here
and held another consultation.

"It's easily twelve miles up to Frannie," I said, "and I don't believe
more than eight to Powell. Let's go that way. We can get down to Cody from
there. I guess there are still people left in Powell."

We started down the road toward Garland. It seemed the sensible thing to
do. We were both famished by now and thirsty also. I had an idea that,
since the fires in Garland were about burned out, there might be an
isolated house unharmed, where we could find food and water.

I sometimes wonder now at our temerity in venturing so calmly to face this
unknown danger. We were in the enemy's country--an enemy whose methods of
attacking us might at any moment prove a hundred times more efficacious
than they had so far. But we did not consider that then.

There was, indeed, nothing else we could have done advantageously. This
road we were on was the only one within twenty or thirty miles. To have
struck west from our wrecked plane--away from the Mercutians--would have
brought us to face a hundred miles or more of desert over to the
Yellowstone.

It was now broad daylight--and almost cloudless, as is usual in this
locality. Half an hour of walking brought us nearly to the outskirts of
Garland. There was less smoke all the time. We judged the fire must be
pretty well burned out by now. Behind us the smoke of Mantua, a much
larger town than Garland, rose in a great rolling cloud.

We were walking along, wondering what we should find ahead, when suddenly
behind Garland and off to the right we saw another huge cloud of smoke
rising.

"Powell!" ejaculated Mercer, coming to a dead stop in the road. "Good God,
t