Mulvaney seemed to overcome the shock produced by his first sight of the approaching shapes. He reached swiftly for his gun, raised it in deliberate aim--fired. There was a burst of luminous brightness. One of the two onrushing child-like winged figures was abruptly gone--gone as swiftly and completely as though it had never been visible. Bryan stumbled in his frantic stride, caught himself, numbed by a sudden dismay. Leeta and her people could be hurt! It was as though the glowing energy of which they seemed composed existed in a state of delicate balance that could be disrupted by the impact of a bullet or its shock-wave. He reached the pavilion steps, leaped up them toward Mulvaney. He had to keep the man from firing again. Somehow he had to show Leeta that his intentions were friendly, sympathetic. He had to talk to her, make her realize what she had been doing. Perhaps, even, he could help her. Mulvaney's blue-clad body loomed up before him. He caught desperately at the patrolman's arm. "Wait!" he gasped. "Don't shoot!" "Are you out of your mind?" the other cried. "Let go of me!" They struggled. Bryan's foot slipped on the steps ... he fell. The mosquito-men seemed disconcerted by the loss of one of their band. They swerved away, as though in sudden terrified realization of danger. But the great bird, with Leeta astride its back, continued toward the ground a short distance from the pavilion, its huge size evidently preventing swift evasive action. Leeta was almost in point-blank range. And again Mulvaney was lifting his gun. On hands and knees, Bryan threw himself back at the other. He caught Mulvaney about the legs, pulled. The patrolman went down, his gun blasting harmlessly into the air. Bryan was climbing back to his feet, when he saw the luminous child-like shape of a mosquito-man darting at him, its needle-snout spearing toward his chest. He sought to twist aside--too late. He felt the brief pain: the electric sensation, and then paralysis held him in its rigid grip. A second of the mosquito-men dove at Mulvaney as he, too, struggled erect, its needle-snout piercing his back. Mulvaney remained bent-over, frozen, statue-like. There was an odd hiatus, poignant, holding a realization of hopes lost forever. Then a slim pale figure moved into Bryan's line of sight--Leeta. She approached to stand before him, holding the crystal globe, a vast wonder in her small face. He felt a pulse of thought, soft and clear, holding a ring of silver chimes. "It is you--he whose will cannot be overcome. Strange that we should meet again ... stranger still that you should save my life. I do not understand ... But I am grateful. And I wish--" The silver melody broke as though against some cold unyielding wall. Then it came again, sad, despairing.