This time he hadn't heard two faint tinkly voices, shouting a belated warning. Perry and Troubles hadn't meant to frighten him to this extreme. The plane flew back, alighting before the microphone, and in the path of those television lenses. Two little doll-like beings descended from the craft. For ten minutes Perry Wilcox talked, telling what had happened; and the world saw and heard. Then he and his companion returned to the plane. With a hiss it flew toward the ventilator in the ceiling. And the city below, hummed in wonder. * * * * * There were some doubts, of course; but the big push was stopped. A week later, the army, watching from its new, rearward trenches, saw a sudden cessation of motion on the citadel they faced. Most of the gleaming Titans there, stood still in their tracks, as though frozen in the morning sunshine. Perry Wilcox and Lyssa Arthurs were pulled, inert, from the vat of green liquid by attendant robots left active for the purpose. They had submitted to the reversal of the process of decreased size, and now they were normal again. After an hour they awoke. They passed through the exit tunnel, and out into the open air. They climbed down the silent slopes beyond the ramparts. They reached the ragged, battered river flats, strewn with wreckage and dotted with silent metal giants. Then someone hailed them. A tank, piloted by a soldier, pulled close. Its turret opened, and a head was thrust out. Perry saw a new Windsor tie, new checkered shirt, a thin face, a bit blistered, and red hair, singed short--only, there was a bandage over the eyes. "Rod!" Perry gasped. "I thought--" Old Roderick Murgatroyd laughed. "I know," he chuckled. "You thought Kerwin's roustabouts lynched me. But when they stormed the hospital, I wasn't there! Fooled 'em. Sneaked off. Then some newshounds cornered me. But never mind that! See! I've got my newsreel rig!" He was clutching the small camera strapped around his neck as he continued plaintively: "I want to take some pictures, Perry. Darn, I can't wait for my eyes to get better! Show me what's good. Path of Progress has made its greatest hit. We've got to carry on, Perry...." Wilcox' face was suddenly pained. But he kept his voice brisk. "Sure we've got to carry on, Rod!" he enthused. "Hurry up and get out of that tin wagon! There's at least a hundred battle automatons standing here around us!" "Hang the automatons," said the old scientist, jumping down lithely with the guidance of Perry's hand. "I want a picture of you, first!" "That means Troubles too, then," Perry shot back. "I think you'll be buying wedding presents before very long!" "Jupiter! That's swell! Now, let's see.... Just where are you?" "Right here, Rod!" Lyssa said briskly, a small, unnoticeable catch in her gay tone. "Standing close together. Shoot!"