By the 15th, scores of the globes were being released each hour, here and there over the world, and their number was rapidly increasing. Dr. Howard was sleeping but two hours out of twenty-four, it seemed, remaining night and day at the Washington office that had become the center of the world's activities. He estimated that within a week the air-mines would be pouring forth at the rate of a thousand a day. "The great danger," he said, "is that the next attack on us might hit one of the great cities so hard that the inevitable panic will cause a cessation on work on the air-mines." "But how long is the work to go on in any case?" I asked. "There must be thousands of globes floating already upon the atmosphere's surface." "There need to be tens of thousands, hundreds of thousands," he said solemnly. "They must be sent forth until these terrible trawlings from above have entirely ceased." I shook my head, for I could see that already many, tired of the ceaseless work, were crying out that the scheme was a crazy one. Others had begun to say that whatever space-visitors had been above had already departed. But these statements were swiftly silenced on the next morning, that of the 16th, by the fifth catastrophe. This fifth blow took place at one of New York's residential suburbs, Scarsdale, and while it took a toll of life exceeded only by that of the Chicago horror, it was different from the others in one odd respect. The great trawl seemed to descend and gouge along the earth with somewhat smaller speed than in the other instances, and was seen very plainly and even escaped from in time by some people in the vicinity. It was described as being very like the familiar steam-shovel scoop in shape, but of a glittering metal that all agreed was not native to the earth. The top of it, what supported it, ran up into the mists of the morning sky. They were many shining strands, and very slender for the colossal weight they supported. They gleamed with strange light and it was the opinion of many that if they were of metal they had in some unheard-of way been given supernatural strength. At Scarsdale perhaps twelve hundred perished in the sweep of the giant scoop, which seemed to make a smaller gash than usual. A few who had heard the trawl crashing toward them had managed to flee from its path in time to escape it. Hope and Fear This fifth catastrophe marked the beginning of the terror's last period. Until then earth's peoples had hoped against hope that in some unexplained way the whole business was the result of natural forces, but now they could no longer doubt that far overhead were hovering vessels or vehicles dragging their trawls here and there over the earth's surface for their own unfathomable purposes. Dread was upon the earth! At any moment of day or night the giant trawl might crash down in terrible annihilation. It was the sword of Damocles, suspended over a helpless world!