dous, for even in the satellite's airless conditions a streamer of flame was visible. Later, there were reports that a wide crack had appeared on Tycho's sun-baked plains.
Days went by, and the black projectile winged its way earthward. Its velocity as well as its size increased day by day.
As it neared the earth, astronomers calculated desperately in an effort to determine where the great shell would fall. Somewhere along the Atlantic coast, they reported, adding that the reports were mere guesses.
Then Arthur Graham made an astounding announcement.
"The projectile," he told the world, "has a greater immensity than previous observation has shown. It is more than a shell. It is a huge bomb of destruction that could wipe out a whole city! But I plead with you—there is a way we can fight it. Due to the shell's size, it's possible for us to do one of two things: Clock its course and explode it with anti-aircraft guns before it lands, or deflect its course entirely and plunge it into the ocean."
A small chance, thought the world, but worth a try. The army set to work, and in a few hours numerous gun bases were established along the coast-line and several miles inland. The projectile from the moon swept downward, met the earth's atmosphere, and plunged for the Carolinas.
Promptly Graham's method of attack was under way. The bomb became visible to the naked eye, and as it rushed earthward, army guns lashed fire into the sky. To explode it or deflect it, Graham had said. Apparently, to do one would be to do the other, but in the hurried moments of ceaseless army gunfire, the chances for a direct hit were very few, and only one was accomplished. The deflection was ever so slight, yet sufficient to send the sinister shell whining into the Atlantic just a few miles off shore. There was no explosion, no cataclysmic sound. Some hours later, a comparatively small tidal wave rushed over the shoreline, and settled.
The tiny, green-bodied Lunarian
turned from the dome's
lone window, where the immense
cannon was visible, and grimly faced
a vast gathering of his subjects. The
long silence was broken.
"Something has happened to our courageous friends," said the Lunarian, "something unexpected has occurred during their momentous undertaking. There has been no reply via ether-wave, nor any sign of them for almost a year. Our attempt at space flight has failed; we must go underground—where we belong." He looked out the window again, at the rising globe of the mother planet. "Three-fourths of it is water," he murmured. "That must be the answer. Or could it be—that they thought our ship was hostile?"
