Our lines let them through. It was a crescent battle line now, open to the south. But when Brutar swept in we closed it as before. The scene here had changed somewhat since we left it. The lurid red of the opposing thought-streams still held balanced between the lines of the fighters. But in one place it was indented now far into Brutar's territory--a red gash like a wound gaping amid his huddled throng. And I noticed, too, that the dim purple haze hung now like an aura close above the heads of our enemies. I asked Thone about it. He said, "Those who are not fighters in there are beginning to feel our thoughts. Perhaps even they begin to suspect what awaits them. Soon the fighters also will know." He spoke quietly, but on a note of calm certainty that in the end we would triumph. From that same height we watched the scene. Almost immovable, struggling ghosts--grey translucent shapes to my vision as now I regarded them. Yet--I wondered--were not those shapes of Brutar's people more solid than our own? A vague shudder mingled with triumph unholy, swept over me. Was it fancy, or was there indeed a change? I could see Brutar, or at least a shape I assumed to be his, raised upon a height in the center of his forces; his arms waving; his soundless voice doubtless exhorting his fighters to greater effort. The fog of purple haze swirled about him, tinting, but not obscuring, for it seemed utterly transparent. Was it my fancy that Brutar's shape was of changing aspect? And then I was aware of an uneasiness growing in the mob huddled there in the midst of the fighting. A stirring. A ripple of movement. Spreading like the ripples of a pebble thrown into a pond; spreading until abruptly the mob was surging, struggling to break the bonds of its own protecting ring of fighters. The fighters felt the press of the throng behind them. Their efforts wavered. With diverted minds their thought-stream weakened. At once the red tumult moved in upon them. But Thone called his orders and a score of shapes relayed them throughout our circular investing ring. I could not understand it. We were not to press our advantage. Our fighters lessened visibly the strength of their attack. And our antagonists in a moment recovered. Thone said quietly, "No, Rob--if we were to force in there now and overwhelm them, there would be many minds unhinged, but not driven irrevocably away. They might return. It is my aim to destroy them completely--mind and body--annihilation!" Savage purpose, savagely expressed! But he added, "It is best--and I think, more merciful." CHAPTER XX THE DESTRUCTION OF THE GHOSTS