, but enough
still lived to be a constant menace to us. Many of the beautiful
residences were untouched by fire, yet smoking ruins were everywhere.
The prowlers, too, seemed to have got over their insensate desire to
burn, and it was more rarely that we saw houses freshly on fire.

"Several of us scouted among the private garages in search of motor cars
and gasoline. But in this we were unsuccessful. The first great flights
from the cities had swept all such utilities away. Calgan, a fine young
man, was lost in this work. He was shot by prowlers while crossing a
lawn. Yet this was our only casualty, though, once, a drunken brute
deliberately opened fire on all of us. Luckily, he fired wildly, and we
shot him before he had done any hurt.

"At Fruitvale, still in the heart of the magnificent residence section
of the city, the plague again smote us. Professor Fair-mead was the
victim. Making signs to us that his mother was not to know, he turned
aside into the grounds of a beautiful mansion. He sat down forlornly on
the steps of the front veranda, and I, having lingered, waved him a last
farewell. That night, several miles beyond Fruitvale and still in the
city, we made camp. And that night we shifted camp twice to get away
from our dead. In the morning there were thirty of us. I shall never
forget the President of the Faculty. During the morning's march his
wife, who was walking, betrayed the fatal symptoms, and when she
drew aside to let us go on, he insisted on leaving the motor car and
remaining with her. There was quite a discussion about this, but in the
end we gave in. It was just as well, for we knew not which ones of us,
if any, might ultimately escape.

"That night, the second of our march, we camped beyond Haywards in the
first stretches of country. And in the morning there were eleven of us
that lived. Also, during the night, Wathope, the professor with the
wounded leg, deserted us in the motor car. He took with him his sister
and his mother and most of our tinned provisions. It was that day, in
the afternoon, while resting by the wayside, that I saw the last airship
I shall ever see. The smoke was much thinner here in the country, and I
first sighted the ship drifting and veering helplessly at an elevation
of two thousand feet. What had happened I could not conjecture, but even
as we looked we saw her bow dip down lower and lower. Then the bulkheads
of the various gas-chambers must have burst, for, quite per