The flares were still burning when he dared look about. MacGregor was pulling frantically at his arm. "Quick--quick!" he was shouting. Thurston scrambled to his feet. One glimpse he caught of a heaving yellow mass in the white light; it twisted in horrible convulsions. They ran stumblingly--drunkenly--toward the car. Riley was half out of the machine. He had tried to drag himself to their assistance. "I couldn't make it," he said: "then I thought of the flares." "Thank Heaven," said MacGregor with emphasis, "it was your legs that were paralyzed, Riley, not your brain." Thurston found his voice. "Let me have that Very pistol. If light hurts that damn thing, I am going to put a blaze of magnesium into the middle of it if I die for it." "They're all gone," said Riley. "Then let's get out of here. I've had enough. We can come back later on." He got back of the wheel and slammed the door of the sedan. The moonlight was gone. The darkness was velvet just tinged with the gray that precedes the dawn. Back in the deeper blackness at the cliff-base a phosphorescent something wavered and glowed. The light rippled and flowed in all directions over the mass. Thurston felt, vaguely, its mystery--the bulk was a vast, naked brain; its quiverings were like visible thought waves.... * * * * * The phosphorescence grew brighter. The thing was approaching. Thurston let in his clutch, but the scientist checked him. "Wait," he implored, "wait! I wouldn't miss this for the world." He waved toward the east, where far distant ranges were etched in palest rose. "We know less than nothing of these creatures, in what part of the universe they are spawned, how they live, where they live--Saturn!--Mars!--the Moon! But--we shall soon know how one dies!" The thing was coming from the cliff. In the dim grayness it seemed less yellow, less fluid. A membrane enclosed it. It was close to the car. Was it hunger that drove it, or cold rage for these puny opponents? The hollow eyes were glaring; a thick arm formed quickly to dart out toward the car. A cloud, high above, caught the color of approaching day.... Before their eyes the vile mass pulsed visibly; it quivered and beat. Then, sensing its danger, it darted like some headless serpent for its machine. It massed itself about the shattered top to heave convulsively. The top was lifted, carried toward the rest of the great metal egg. The sun's first rays made golden arrows through the distant peaks. The struggling mass released its burden to stretch its vile length toward the dark caves under the cliffs. The last sheltering fog-veil parted. The thing was halfway to the high bank when the first bright shaft of direct sunlight shot through.