This was the afternoon of the 3rd of March. That night, while Freddie and I were at our boarding place, the news reached us that a silver ball of invaders from Xenephrene had landed in the twilight of the Venezuelan coast--the heart of the region which in all our western hemisphere we had come to prize most dearly! CHAPTER VI "IF I HAD BUT KNOWN!" "Look here, young man," said the War Secretary, "can you operate a plane of the Arctic A type?" I could, and so could Freddie, I said. The War Secretary continued his pacing of the room. It was about nine o'clock of the morning of March 15--black as midnight outdoors; cold, with clouds scudding low over the Florida keys, clouds which promised snow. The War Secretary had sent for us. Conditions were worse everywhere, it seemed now by this morning's news--as though each day brought its disasters worse than any which had gone before. The invaders from Xenephrene were obviously almost impregnable to our attack. The efforts of Robinson and Davis had proved it, if nothing else. It was obvious also that the invaders at New York City so far had made no offensive move. Their barrage--the crimson howling sound, or light, whatever it might be--was merely their defense. "Heaven knows," the secretary exclaimed, "what weapons they may have to loose when they begin an attack!" And now, another huge silver ball had landed in Venezuela--on the coastal plain near La Guayra. In the deserted frozen wastes of New York State the invaders were not an immediate, serious menace. But in Venezuela it was a far different condition. La Guayra was the main receiving port for all our refugee ships. A twilight had fallen there, but the temperature still was mild. It was colder up in Caracas, but the people thronged there, and with heroic efforts the Government and the citizens were doing their best to receive them. It was not a wholly unselfish effort. With the new climate, Colombia, Venezuela, the former jungles of the Amazon basin of Brazil; Ecuador, Peru, even the mountain fastnesses of Bolivia, and the arid coast of north Chile--this was the land of promise. It was the best, the only tolerable all-year climate left to the Western World. Here the new great cities would spring up--centers of industry and commerce; here would be the new great fields of grain; the cattle ranges. But here, in the midst of the confusion of arriving settlers, the enemy from Xenephrene had landed! We had no details; we only knew that around the silver ball a barrage of red howling sound was standing up into the sky. Within that circular mile of the red barrage, all that had been evidence of our human life--houses, trees, people--all was vanished!