ibe the scene that followed?

I remember that the Martian Emperor sprang to his feet, looking tenfold
more terrible than before. I remember that there instantly burst from
the line of guards on either side crinkling beams of death-fire that
seemed to sear the eyeballs. I saw a half a dozen of our men fall in
heaps of ashes, and even at that terrible moment I had time to wonder
that a single one of us remained alive.

Rather by instinct than in consequence of any order given, we formed
ourselves in a hollow square, with Aina lying apparently lifeless in
the centre, and then with gritted teeth we did our work.

The lines of guards melted before the disintegrators like rows of snow
men before a licking flame.

A Terrible Battle.

The discharge of the lightning engines in the hands of the Martians in
that confined space made an uproar so tremendous that it seemed to pass
the bounds of human sense.

More of our men fell before their awful fire, and for the second time
since our arrival on this dreadful planet of war our annihilation seemed
inevitable.

But in a moment the whole scene changed. Suddenly there was a discharge
into the room which I knew came from one of the disintegrators of the
electrical ships. It swept through the crowded throng like a destroying
blast. Instantly from another side swished a second discharge, no less
destructive, and this was quickly followed by a third. Our ships were
firing through the windows.

The Power of the Disintegrator.

Almost at the same moment I saw the flagship, which had been moored in the
air close to the entrance and floating only three or four feet above the
ground, pushing its way through the gigantic doorway from the ante-room,
with its great disintegrators pointed upon the crowd like the muzzles
of a cruiser's guns.

And now the Martians saw that the contest was hopeless for them, and
their mad struggle to get out of the range of the disintegrators and
to escape from the death chamber was more appalling to look upon than
anything that had yet occurred.

It was a panic of giants. They trod one another under foot; they yelled
and screamed in their terror; they tore each other with their clawlike
fingers. They no longer thought of resistance. The battle spirit had
been blown out of them by a breath of terror that shivered their marrow.

No Pity for Our Foes.

Still the pitiless disintegrators played upon them until Mr. Edison,
making himself heard, now t