the victims."

As they reached their jeep, the encircling mass of Martians moved
forward. The humming rose to a higher pitch, and then the mob, with the
berserk ferocity of a swarm of bees, lunged toward them.

Chapter 12. _At Rope's End_

With Boulton lying across the back seat, the four men acted
simultaneously. Thinking only of self-defense, they drew their pistols
and fired point-blank into the monsters attacking them. As the men
emptied their guns, the Martians in front stumbled, fell, rolled over,
or began to run aimlessly as the heavy slugs tore through them.

They were not easy to kill--which was to be expected of creatures
without much of a central consciousness--but on the other hand, once
struck or injured, they seemed to lose contact with their fellows and to
act wholly without direction. They plunged wildly into each other, and
before the men in the jeep had finished their barrage, the clearing was
a milling, confused mob. Body clashed against body, legs scrambled
under legs, and the angry buzz was now lost amid the clattering and
banging of shell against shell.

Haines slid into the front seat behind the steering wheel, stepped on
the gas, and drove toward a momentary gap in the mob. The jeep tore
through, raced around the corner, and headed down an empty street.
Crouching in the back, Burl, Russ, and Ferrati hastily reloaded.

"We can't let ourselves get stopped, or even hole up. That A-bomb's
going to go off in about twenty minutes, and we'd better be back at the
ship before then," cried Russ.

As they bumped along, they noticed that the Martians who came within
fifty feet of their jeep suddenly stopped whatever they were doing and
turned toward them, hostile. They were like a stick drawn along among
bees--as they traveled they left fury in their wake.

"It must be Boulton," Russ yelled to Burl above the roar of their
passage. "He must be charged with the irritating vibration."

Burl nodded as he looked back. The Martians had started after them on
foot, and could lope fast when they wanted to. "They've got some sort of
organized action going," he called to Haines. "I think it's steam
carts!"

"The mass mind caught on fast," said Russ. "And look! They're warned in
advance now!"

They were nearing the edge of the city, and looming before them,
blocking their right-of-way, were two steam carts--big ones carrying a
large number of Martians. They were holding metallic rods and
instrumen