jected to much harsh
criticism for its waiting attitude. It was suggested that armored
tanks--relics of the World War--could be put into commission. These, under
cover of darkness, could be used to rush the Mercutian position. This
obviously was an absurd plan, since the light-ray would instantly raise
the temperature of the metal composing the car to such a height that the
men inside would be killed--not to mention the fact that all explosives
in the car would be instantly detonated.

Another suggestion was that a night raid be made upon the outposts of the
camp by a few men armed with machine guns fired from the shoulder, in an
effort to capture one of the Mercutians garbed in a suit impervious to the
light. With this suit even one man with a machine gun would probably be
able to clean out the Mercutian camp.

This plan evoked much favorable comment. This black material, once in our
possession, could be analyzed and possibly be duplicated in quantity by
us. It seemed the logical way of making progress.

But, unfortunately, conditions around the Mercutian camp at present were
not the same as that night when I escaped. At that time it would have been
feasible; now it was impossible, for all the invaders were within the
small circle of projectors, and the ground outside this circle was never
free from the diverging rays of the light. Also, as one newspaper article
replied, even with such a suit of armor a man with a machine gun could do
little, for the light would instantly render useless the gun itself.

So the controversy went on, and General Price waited, knowing that each
day must bring the enemy nearer starvation. Such was the condition of
affairs in the latter part of June.

Then, one morning, I received a telegram from Alan Newland in Florida. I
had been corresponding with him at intervals, but he had never given me a
hint of what had happened down there.

The telegram read:

Important Mercutian development here.
Keep absolutely secret. Join us here at once.
Answer.

I wired him immediately. Three days later I was at Bay Head.

CHAPTER X.

MIELA'S STORY.

When I reached the little Florida town Alan was there to meet me. He would
have none of my eager questions, but took me at once by launch to their
bungalow. No one was on the porch when we landed, and we went immediately
into the living room. There I found Beth and Professor Newland talking to
this extraordinary girl from another