A tent camp for women, children and the animals had been pitched far outside the city, and the forty-thousand armed men of Heber were swinging down one of the great, out-moded superhighways which led into the city. Overhead circled spotting planes, a vivid red in hue, marked with symbols strange to the Hebers, and even to Markett and Stevens. "Something must have happened in the city," the girl hazarded. They could see it not far off, and from it issued along the highway men marching in ragged file, with none of the snap and precision of the Hebers. "Fools!" spat Stevens. "If they want to reduce our numbers why don't they drop weights from those planes?" Markett was shocked. "That's a very clever idea," she said. "I wonder that nobody's thought of it before." "They haven't the military mind," said Stevens. "Such things do not occur to them." The men from the city were drawing nearer; calmly the Hebers unshipped their weapons, front ranks armed with spring-bows, rear ranks with throwing darts and the savage backswords that could cut down a grizzly bear in midcharge. An especially large plane roared overhead, and, from it, thundered a great voice. "Halt your forces!" "Dr. Alfreed!" cried Markett. "That little fool's trying to order us around." "Ignore that," advised Stevens. "Go straight ahead. Meet that mob and you won't find any resistance worth speaking of." "I have arranged for everything," said Isral serenely. "Quarter will be given when asked; corpses will not be mutilated, and no vengeance for our own casualties will be taken once resistance has stopped. We will accept them as equals once we have the city in our hands." He fell silent and the tension grew as the two armies marched toward one another at a steady gait. The huge red plane of Dr. Alfreed yawped hysterical injunctions at the advancing Hebers, who didn't even look up. Then, suddenly, there was a brief exchange of throwing-weapons and the armies made contact. Automatically they split up into groups, clubbing and slashing. Stevens waded into the thick of it, swinging a broadsword He was startled to see that all the enemy were wearing vivid red shorts and bandoliers and were uniformly armed with heavy, short clubs. Remembering the timorous party that had first sought to kill him, he was dazed at the savagery with which the city men came to attack, with a suicidal disregard for their own safety and lives. Further speculation he could not indulge in, for he was hard-pressed by a piquet of men who charged with strange cries of "_Right for Alfreed!_" One he spitted on his point; another's legs were cut away from beneath him, and a third landed a wild blow on Stevens' shoulder before the sizzling sweep of the backsword cut him down.