the leader of the American scientists.

"A cure for the Plague has been discovered!" he cried in joyful tones.
"Man still has a chance!"

Before an hour had passed by, scientists were in possession of
cultures of germs that would destroy the bacilli of the Gray Death.
The hope of salvation restored some semblance of order; and in a very
short time the development of the germs was going forward as rapidly
as skilled bacteriologists could carry it. Forces of doctors were
marshalled to administer the cure, inoculating all who were untouched
by the Plague.

At about that time, a small, bronze-colored sphere arose into the air
above San Francisco, and sped eastward with amazing velocity. It
flashed over the United States, over the Atlantic ocean, and over
western Europe, finally landing in the midst of the European hordes.
There its operator, a deformed cripple, left bacteria similar to those
he had given to the United States.

In a short time Europe, too, was busily engaged in developing the
bacteria, and inoculating her people.

Many others died before the world was rendered immune, but at last
mankind let its labors cease. The Gray Plague was overcome.

Then the work of reclaiming the deserted areas was begun; then, too,
was started the ghastly task of disposing of the countless, rigid
dead. And finally, a great steamer left New York harbor, and started
across the Atlantic. It was the purpose of the men on board to destroy
utterly the source of the Plague.

But long before that occurred, humanity had heard the story of Phillip
Parkinson, the man who saved the world--had heard, and had honored the
deliverer of mankind.

Parkinson's story follows:

CHAPTER II

The steam yacht, Diana, bound for the Azores and points south, was two
days out from Miami when the great meteor fell into the Atlantic. On
the after deck, leaning over the rail, watching the moonlit waters,
stood Phillip Parkinson, owner of the yacht. A bacteriologist of
international fame was Parkinson, on an early vacation to recuperate
from the effects of a strenuous winter of research. Nervous, rather
high-strung, he had been unable to sleep; at about one in the morning
of the 18th of March, he had come up on deck.

He had stood there for about an hour when suddenly there appeared in
the sky above him, a meteor, a great disc of blue-white incandescence.
It seemed to be rushing straight down toward him; instinctively he
leaped back, as though to a