The town was in a turmoil. I knew that its people saw us down here as a myriad half-materialized ghosts. They were crowding to watch us. They realized that now at last the ghosts had come in a horde! Perhaps to attack. I saw policemen on the streets; and presently a company of soldiers came along. Spurts of flame showed as evidently they fired tentatively toward the ground. But there was no sound. Brutar chuckled. "Well, they're really frightened now! And they have cause to be. Where are we, Rob?" It seemed possibly a suburb of New York City. I did not recognize it at once. Then off to one side I saw a shadowy river, with ghostly cliffs on its further bank. The Hudson! "I don't know where we are," I said carefully. "Where do you want to go first, Brutar?" "To New York City--down there where there is river all around, and a great pile of buildings." Lower New York. But I would not lead him. I protested ignorance. A shape approached us, a man. He gestured. "I know it is that way, Brutar." We started. The two hundred fighters in a triple file came after us. Brutar had ordered the mob of men and women to wait where they were. We advanced slowly, and I saw with sinking heart that we were going southward. Upper New York City soon lay close ahead. * * * * * It was a strange, soundless march. The slopes of the Borderland carried us sometimes above, and sometimes below the ground of Earth. But generally we were below it. Up there over our heads the shadowy landscape was silently slipping backward. It was all too familiar now. We were under upper Broadway. Huge apartment houses loomed high up there, with the Hudson almost at our level to the right. Our advance was followed up above. From every window people were peering fearsomely down at us. The cross streets were jammed. But ahead of us policemen were clearing them. And down empty Broadway, and down each of the North and South Avenues troops of the State Militia were marching, keeping as nearly as possible directly over us. "Brutar," I said, "you cannot fight this world. Look at them there. They're ready--waiting." Machine guns were posted at most of the street corners now; and as we passed beneath them they were moved swiftly forward to other streets ahead of us. The boat traffic of the river was being cleared. Police boats, armed and ready, were paralleling our march. A war-vessel lay anchored ahead, off Grant's Tomb. Its funnels were smoking, and as we neared it, very slowly it steamed along with us. And over in Jersey and on Long Island I had no doubt they were ready with watching troops and every precaution. Let one of us who now were mere ghosts dare to materialize further, and at once we would be killed. What could Brutar do? He laughed at my thoughts. "You shall see, Rob, when we get among the great houses and I lay my weapons."