by no possibility could it have had such an
effect upon copper, steel, bakelite, and glass. It was certainly real,
and while I cannot begin to understand it, I will say that your
imagination has certainly vindicated itself. A race of beings, who can
do such things as that, can do almost anything--you have been right,
from the start."

"Then you can beat those horrible Fenachrone, after all!" cried Dorothy,
and threw herself into her husband's arms.

"Do you remember, Dick, that I hailed you once as Columbus at San
Salvador?" asked Margaret unsteadily from Crane's encircling arm. "What
could a man be called who from the sheer depths of his imagination
called forth the means of saving from destruction all the civilization
of millions of entire worlds?"

"Don't talk that way, please, folks," Seaton was plainly very
uncomfortable. He blushed intensely, the burning red tide rising in
waves up to his hair as he wriggled in embarrassment, like any
schoolboy. "Mart's done most of it, anyway, you know; and even at that,
we ain't out of the woods yet, by forty-seven rows of apple trees."

"You will admit, will you not, that we can see our way out of the woods,
at least, and that you yourself feel rather relieved?" asked Crane.

"I think we'll be able to pull their corks now, all right, after we get
some dope. It's a cinch they've either got the stuff we need or know how
to get it--and if that zone is impenetrable, I'll bet they'll be able to
dope out something just as good. Relieved? That doesn't half tell it,
guy--I feel as if I had just pitched off the Old Man of the Sea who's
been sitting on my neck! What say you girls get your fiddle and guitar
and we'll sing us a little song? I feel kind of relieved--they had me
worried some--it's the first time I've felt like singing since we cut
that warship up."

Dorothy brought out her "fiddle"--the magnificent Stradivarius, formerly
Crane's, which he had given her--Margaret her guitar, and they sang one
rollicking number after another. Though by no means a Metropolitan Opera
quartette, their voices were all better than mediocre, and they had sung
together so much that they harmonized readily.

"Why don't you play us some real music, Dottie?" asked Margaret, after a
time. "You haven't practiced for ages."

"I haven't felt like playing lately, but I do now," and Dorothy stood up
and swept the bow over the strings. Doctor of Music in violin, an
accomplished musician, playing upon