It was quite obvious by now, even to the most conservative minds, that the end of human life on earth was not far off. It could only be a few more weeks before the last stronghold fell. Daily, hourly, those deadly Fire Ants were everywhere expanding their fields of operations. Presently all humanity would be driven to the seacoasts, there to perish by fire or water, as they chose. There were some optimists, of course, who believed that the miracle would happen--that Professor Wentworth or some other scientist would devise some means of repelling the invader before it was too late. Young Jim Carter of _The York Press_ was not among them, however, though he would have gambled it would be Professor Wentworth if anyone. For what hope was there that any mere man could figure out a weapon that would be effective against such a deadly, such a superhuman foe? Very little, it seemed, and he grew less and less sanguine, as he continued his frenzied, sleepless work of reporting the unending catastrophes for his paper. He often thought bitterly of that ten thousand dollars. A lot of good that would do him now! As for Joan, she faced her fate with fortitude--fortitude and a supreme faith that her father would succeed in analyzing that sinister orange vapor and find the weapon the world waited for. But agonizing days passed and he did not find it. Then at last, on the night of August 14th, when Los Angeles and San Francisco were smoldering infernos, along with Reno, Denver, Omaha, El Paso and a score of other great American cities; when Buenos Aires and Santiago were gone, Berlin and Peking and Cairo; when Australia was all one fiery hell--then it was that Professor Wentworth summoned Jim Carter to Hartford. * * * * * Hoping against hope, he hurried over. Once again, Joan ushered him into the house. She was very pale and did not speak. At her side stood her father. It was he who spoke. "Good evening, Jim. You have come promptly." His voice was strained, his face grave. He had aged greatly in the past few weeks. "Well I'll admit I clipped along. You've--found something?" Professor Wentworth smiled wanly. "Suppose you step into my study and see what I have found." He led the way toward the little makeshift laboratory that for many days and nights had been the scene of his efforts. It was littered with strange devices now, strangest of all perhaps a huge glass tube like a cannon, mounted on some sort of swivel base. Ignoring this for the moment, he turned to a smaller tube set upright on a table at the far end of the room. In it, glowed a sinister orange lump that made the whole tube fluorescent. "Behold one of your monsters in captivity!" said the professor, again with a wan smile. "In miniature, of course. What I have done is to condense some of that vapor into a solid."