And then Tarrano's trickery became apparent. We had not broken his barrage; he had deliberately withdrawn it, to encourage us, to bring our other units to the spot.... Our power house, neglected, was momentarily comparatively defenseless. The enemy barrage at the point of the wall nearest it, suddenly lifted. Beams darted from the opening ... men came out in a cloud.... I held back momentarily from the wall and gathered my remnant of men about me. Only half my former strength; but with sinking heart I tried to assure myself that the others had not heeded my call. The fighting here had slackened; Tarrano's men had risen high, engaged at long range by our girls, from whom they were slowly, trickily retreating as though to lure the girls above the city; and my heart was thankful when I heard the relayed order from Rhaalton for the girls to withdraw--not to pass above the wall, even at high altitude. The order came just in time; the barrage here flashed on again, trapping a few of our men behind it. I was aware of this new attack on the power house. Our units were hurriedly being ordered back. Georg, in desperation, had flung his instrument vehicle at the enemy ray ... My connection broke; and then another connection brought me someone's voice with the report that the instrument room had darkened that main enemy ray, but had itself crashed to the ground ... I wondered if Georg were killed ... later, I heard someone say that he was safe within the power house.... I disobeyed my final orders; I did not swing back toward the power house; instead, with my men around me, we fled back from this segment of the wall to the higher lying white plain behind it. I have spoken of the down-grade of this land here, culminating in the depression which marked this part of the wall. It was that depression which gave me my idea. Our heat-ray cylinders had so far been useless. They had a range of only two hundred feet, and no power to attack a barrage. Some of them had futilely been used; the snow and ice on the ground above our recent fighting was melted in patches--pools of boiling water lay on the naked rock; and the water, flowing down the depression, had reached the ice-wall--a tiny stream of it, eating into the wall, slowly, surely.... With my men I flew up the slope. The ice and snow here melted under the close-range play of our heat-cylinders. Rivulets of boiling water began creeping toward the city. Other men at my call joined us. Two hundred of us soon were melting the ice. The rivulets merged into brooks, to streams--and soon a river torrent of hissing, boiling water gathering volume as it went, was surging at the wall. The wall began melting--itself feeding this monster which was eating at its vitals ... a yawning hole began opening at the base of the wall ... it began sagging at the top ... crumbling....