No. Something was happening. Specks moved out of the miniature buildings. Dots rolled out of the infinitesimal garages. The dots and the specks seemed to mill about uncertainly and then to come to a restless, not-quite stillness. It seemed that something was expected to happen. But there was nothing that could. There was only a great emptiness and a great stillness.... But then there came a faint roaring. It was very faint indeed. It strengthened, and diminished, and strengthened again. Then a mote appeared in the sky. It came down and down and down, bellowing. The bellowing was the unmistakable sound of ramjets. And the thinnest of high-pitched sounds arose from the specks which were men outside the buildings at the base. The sounds were howls of triumph, shrieks of rejoicing, of gladness that the impossible had been accomplished. The X-21 came wabbling down out of the sky and leveled off a bare hundred feet above the pebbly plain. It lowered, and lowered, and suddenly yellow dust spouted furiously where its wheels had touched. The roaring cut off. The ship rolled and rolled. Later, it would develop that less than one quart of ramjet fuel remained to be burned before it hit ground. Shouting, swarming men rushed toward it. Dots which were trucks and cars raced to greet it. Presently McCauley saluted very formally, standing before a general whose cap was badly ripped on one side. "Sir," he said, "it looks like we did it. And I'd like to say, sir, that I am very proud to have had Major Furness with me. He's hurt, sir, as I radioed to Hawaii. The ambulance is rushing him to hospital. But he stuck to his job throughout, sir, and I'll be obliged if you'll tell his son that he should be very proud of his father." _3_