Father recalls how our war secretary gripped him. "But what does he want, Ferrule? This Togaro--conquer us? God, man, we can't yield up our whole country! Our whole earth! Does he want to exterminate us? Why doesn't he say something, communicate with us, make demands--an ultimatum--terms for surrender--something! Anything, but not this gruesome silence!" Father was silent. But to him came the wistful thought of Drake, Dianne and me. He wondered where we were--if only we would come back to him! If we had the drugs, and brought them now, the earth might be saved. Warfare, with both sides using the drugs, would be terrible indeed. It might, probably would, destroy the world of its own momentum. Then there came to father with a flash of divination, the true aspect of what might happen if our earth forces had the drug. Togaro's giants never wore the drug-belts. Father could guess why. It was a weapon too powerful, so that Togaro did not dare entrust it now even to his own men. One, for instance, might be wounded, and in a frenzy take too much of the drug and run amuck, destroying all his fellows. But there was another reason. A giant had already been killed. His body was floating in the ocean off Boston. Other giants might be killed. The Earth forces might get possession of the drugs. Father wondered where the main drug supply was kept. Probably, he concluded, it was all upon Togaro's person. One man, controlling everything. Father divined what might happen if the earth forces had the drugs. A general attack by our planes, our armies and navies, could be made. It might take the giants by surprise. A thousand of them--there seemed only that many--might be overcome. If Togaro could be separated from them so that they could be kept from growing larger, the earth-giants might fight with Togaro the combat of size. Wild and desperate thoughts these. But father had them; and he prayed wistfully that Drake and I might come and bring with us the drug that would offer this last desperate hope. This was the night of June 1 and 2. The dawn of the 2nd brought a new menace. In the ocean, far off at the curving eastern horizon beyond Sandy Hook, the head and shoulders of a giant loomed into the sky. No, not a giant, this--a titan. A monstrous, titanic thing in human form. Togaro! No one had seem him arrive. He swam down from Cape Cod, doubtless, in the darkness just before dawn, expanding as he swam. And now he stood some twenty miles offshore. A mountain in the shape of a man off there. To observers at the sea-level he was standing beneath the curve of the horizon. And his torso loomed mountainous into the sky. A thousand feet? A mile? There are no eye-witnesses who can agree. He stood a moment, and then he waded toward the Hook, and spoke. It was a rumble like distant thunder. It was heard all up and down the coast. Words blurred--but he said them over slowly. And they were heard, and then distinguished. "I will talk now. I will tell you what to do."