"If we could somehow cut our landing gear free," began Jeter, "but--" "But it's too late, Lucian," said Eyer quietly. "Look at the window." They both looked. Countless fingers of shadowy gray substance were undulating up the surface of the window, like pale angleworms or white serpents of many sizes, trying to climb up a pane of glass. "Well," said Jeter, "here we are! You see? Outside we can see nothing. Inside we begin to see a little, and what good will it do us?" Eyer grinned. It was as though he lighted a cigarette and nonchalantly blew smoke rings at the ceiling, save that they dared not use up any of their precious oxygen by smoking. Their fear had left them utterly when it would have been natural for them to be stunned by it. CHAPTER VIII _Cataclysmic Hunger_ Eyer thrust out his hand to cut the motor. Jeter stayed it. "I've an idea," he said softly; "let it run. We'll learn something more about the sensitiveness of this material." The motor was cut to idling. The plane scarcely trembled now in the pull of the motor, so firmly was she held in the grip of the shadowy, vague tentacles. A grim sort of silence had settled in the cabin. The faces of the two partners were dead white, but their eyes were fearless. They had come aloft to give their lives if need be. They wouldn't try to get them back now. Besides, what use was there? Jeter paused for a moment in thought. Then he began to examine some of their weapons. The only one by which they could fire outside the plane--due to the necessity of keeping the cabin closed to retain oxygen--was the rapid firer on the wing. This could be depressed enough to fire downward at an angle of forty-five degrees. Jeter hesitated for a moment. He looked at Eyer. Eyer grinned. "It can't bring death to us any sooner," he said. "Let her go!" Jeter tripped the rapid firer and held it for half a minute, during which time three hundred projectiles, eight inches long by two inches in diameter, were poured into the invisible surface. The bullets simply accomplished nothing. It was almost as though the field had simply opened its mouth to catch thrown food. There was no movement of the field, no jarring, no vibration. Nor did the plane itself tremble or shake. Jeter had to stop the rapid firer because its base, the plane, was now so firmly fixed that the recoil might kick the gun out of its mount. Now the partners sat and looked out through the windows of unbreakable glass, watching the work of those tentacular fingers. "How does it feel, Tema, to be eaten alive?" asked Jeter. "Have you radiophoned Hadley about what's happening to us?" "No," replied Jeter. "It would frighten the world half out of its wits. Besides, what can we say has caught us? We don't know." "And what are we going to do about it?" * * * * *