We were now well over Graff's lines. Every one of our planes, save those which we had lost, were over the line now. The very desperation of our attack was irresistible. Graff had no time to prepare a defense. Once within his lines, his immobile ground projectors were impotent to harm us. The barrage was flickering; in sections now it was dark even when our purple rays were turned aside. It was broken, flickering out. Our shells doubtless had hit many of its ground projectors; the planes from high up had hit others with their bombs. The distant south segment of the barrage was still active. Suddenly the whole barrage vanished completely, as one of our shells must have hit its power house. I knew the location of that low frame building in by the river bank; I had been trying to direct Freddie's aim at it. Five hundred feet above the dead gray ground we flew in toward the camp itself. The barrage was gone; a single last beam came up from the river, caught one of our planes full, and suddenly vanished. Below us now the ground within Graff's lines was glaring yellow-red from the conflagration of the village. We could see the figures of people and the giant insects running in aimless panic. Our planes shot them down. Flying platforms were standing in a long line, where Graff had had them ready for his new attack. Panic-stricken Brauns were crowding onto them. Our planes swung low, firing now with machine guns. Across the river most of Graff's Space-vehicles were wrecked and burning from our shellfire. But, at intervals, the small Space-globes were rising. And from everywhere the flying platforms were trying to get away. Our planes attacked them; and far overhead I could now see Davis and Robinson's crimson beam. They were up there, waiting, and any vehicles which escaped us they caught and annihilated. From the river bank Graff's huge cylindrical Space-liner now struggled up. Its end was gone; smoke and flame were rising from its interior fittings. It rose laboriously, painted red-yellow with the lurid glare from below. I have often wondered if Graff were on it! Making his last effort to escape! It evidently had no weapons; it rose heavily, with our planes darting after it like wasps, circling it, stabbing its huge vitals with shellfire. It did not get very high; it came down presently, turned completely over, crashed and broke into leaping flames and black smoke rolling up in a cloud. I had guided our plane across the encampment and back, then circled, as a score of our other planes were circling. We kept firing steadily with the machine gun. We had long since abandoned the purple beams. Most of our planes were now flying low, using the machine guns only.