"Come," said Komoru to his companion. But Ethel did not move. Her mind was racked with perplexity. Here she was in a city of her own people. Why should she continue to accompany this young Japanese whom, despite his gentlemanly conduct, she instinctively feared? Yet what else could she do? She was dressed in the peculiar attire of the invaders, and would certainly have trouble in convincing an American of her identity. [Illustration: As they passed near other planes, Ethel noted that in many cases the women were driving.] "I must ask you to hurry," said Komoru, as the others moved off. With an effort Ethel gathered her wavering emotions in hand and went with him. If she must go, she reasoned it were well not to arouse Komoru's suspicion of her loyalty. A few minutes later they were again in the air, following the lead of a plane with bright red wings--the flag-ship, as it were, of the group. In a half hour the expedition was approaching Houston. Coming over the city, the leader circled high and waited until his followers were better massed. "Are we going to attack the town?" inquired Ethel, as Komoru asked her for the water-bottle. "Oh, no," he replied, "nothing of the sort; we are simply bluffing. There are a number of expeditions going out to-day. We must make the appearance of a great invasion." "How many planes are there all told?" Komoru smiled. "Not so many," he said. "But how many?" persisted Ethel. "Fifteen thousand, maybe," Komoru replied. "To invade a country with nearly two hundred million inhabitants! We will surely all be killed." Komoru smiled. "By sheer force of numbers," explained Ethel. "Wait and see," replied her enigmatical companion. For hours the little aerial squadron sailed through the balmy air of Texas. They passed over Austin and Waco and Fort Worth and Dallas. They turned eastward and passed over Texarkana, and thence south to impress the people of Shreveport. The excitement evinced in the towns increased as the news of their flight was wired ahead. They were frequently shot at by groups of excited citizens or occasional companies of militia, but at the height and speed at which they were flying the bullets went wide. One plane was lost. Something must have snapped. It doubled up and went tumbling downward like a wounded pigeon. The sun was dropping toward the western horizon. The invaders had been flying for ten hours. They had been without food or sleep for thirty-six hours. Save for the brief relaxation of the morning, Komoru had not taken his hands from the steering wheel, nor his foot from the engine control since the previous sunset in the Bay of Tehauntepec. [Illustration: The two women of Aryan blood worked together in the cotton field side by side with the Orientals.] As they passed near other planes, Ethel noted that in many cases the women were driving. Notwithstanding her dislike for him, the girl found herself wishing that she could relieve Komoru.