Soon the lagoon was crowded--a chaos of pushing, shoving boats. Then the boats began landing, disgorging their occupants, wild-eyed _slaans_ each a potential murderer. The gardens of the palace were presently jammed with them. They did not at first come within our threshholds; they stood milling about under the palms, trampling the tropic flowers, screaming threats and epithets at us. But waiting--as a mob always does--for some leader to advance, that they might follow him upon us. We stood on the palace roof-top. I must confess that we were in a flurry for the moment. There were undoubtedly weapons at hand, but I at least did not have them, nor did I know where they were. Excusable flurry possibly for the thing had come so quickly, and most of us were strangers here of but a few hours. The roof had a low railing waist-high, but broad. We stood clustered behind it. In the garden beneath, the mob was shouting up at us. And, before I could stop her, Maida had leaped to the top of the rail. Georg and I clutched at her, then steadied her. _"Slaans--"_ But they would not hear her. Shouts went up; a roar of threats. The press of additions to the mob landing from other boats, forced the front ranks forward. They were now on the palace steps, jammed there waving their weapons yet still hesitating to advance. "_Slaans_--my people--" Maida's frail voice was lost in the uproar. Then a missle was thrown upward--a portion of a broken generator--a heavy chunk of metal. It barely missed Maida, and fell with a thump to the roof behind us. Then came others--a rain of them about us. I tried to pull Maida back, but she fought me, her voice still calling out its appeal. With a bound, Georg was up on the rail beside her. Aften--the young Earth man--had quietly handed him a cylinder. Georg waved it at the mob. "_Slaans_--" His stronger voice caught their attention. A sudden hush fell. "_Slaans_--it is I, Georg Brende. Your Princess Maida rules you now only under me. A new ruler, _slaans_--the man of Earth--Georg Brende who must be obeyed--Georg Brende, soon to be husband of your Princess--" But they would not hear him out. The din from them submerged his voice. His lips snapped tight as abruptly he ceased talking; his brows lowered grimly and I saw his finger press upon the cylinder. Maida's voice screamed: "Georg! Have mercy! Do not kill them!" She spoke barely in time. His cylinder swept upward. The rays from it caught only the upper portions of the palms and the tree tops. The foliage withered, shriveled before that soundless, invisible blast.