alting life itself for a fraction of time. One was, somehow,
aware of existence but without sensation. And then came reaction and
the realization of what was really taking place. The German's bomb
landed fully ten blocks away, but you would have taken oath in court
that it had fallen at your feet, behind you, above you and into your
very brain.

[Sidenote: Terror of the people.]

[Sidenote: A broken gas main.]

An air raid on Walthamstow, which drab town can boast neither ammunition
works nor the ownership of war material of any description, could not be
at once realized. But here was the cyclonic fact, hideously real,
appallingly actual; and there in the heavens was the buoyant Zeppelin
maneuvering for further mischief. The reverberation of the first
explosion was still grumbling back in Epping Forest when all
Walthamstow, rubbing its eyes, tumbled out into the black streets. Men,
women, children, all ludicrously clotheless, swarmed aimlessly like bees
in an overturned hive. Stark terror gripped them. It distorted their
faces and set their legs quivering. The dullest among these toil-dulled
people knew what that explosion meant, knew that it was part of the
punishment promised by the German foe. "Gott strafe England" had come to
pass. But they could not understand why the enemy had singled them out
for such drastic distinction. The more alert and cool-headed of the men
battled with their fellows and shouted instructions to get the women
folks and the kiddies back indoors and down into their cellars. The
night-gowned and pajamaed throng could not be persuaded that safety lay
not in sight of the Zeppelin but away from it. The hypnotism of horror
lured them on to where twelve houses lay spread about in smoking chaos,
a plateau of blazing and noisome havoc. Somewhere a gas-main burst with
a roar and drove the crowd back with its choking fumes as no human hands
could have done. Women frankly hysterical or swooning were roughly
thrust aside. Children shrieking in uncomprehending panic were swept
along with the crowd or trodden upon. Lumbering men ran and shouted and
cursed and shook hairy fists at the long blot on the clouds. Some of the
men leaped over iron palings like startled rabbits and flung themselves
in the grass, face downward and quaking. And yet, I dare say that most
of these would have walked straight into a familiar danger without the
waver of an eyelash; it was the unknown peril, the doubt as to how and
when