“We took our parachutes from their holders on the side of the machine and started up to the top of the sink-hole we are in. The monsters began to come closer as we neared the top and one made a dive for us, so we retreated to the machine. They seem to be afraid to come into this pit we are in. We found a place on one side of the pit where the vegetable has been pulled until it has pulled apart and we can see below. We are going to this hole now and enlarge it sufficiently to enable us to drop through--all is clear below--so good-bye, but watch for us to come sailing down soon. We are carrying oxygen tanks with us to breathe.” The voice ceased and the crowd began to watch above for any specks that might turn out to be the two men and their parachutes. Many minutes passed, then the voice came, a voice filled with a tone of despair and terror. * * * * * “They got poor Dexter. He went first, after we had enlarged the hole, and before he had dropped five hundred feet a dozen of the monsters were after him. Helpless in the parachute, they dived on him and dragged him up to the top of the island and tore him to shreds. Now they are screaming and snapping their beaks above this pit and are swooping nearer and nearer. Their taste of blood seems to have made them wilder. I will fight them from the cockpit and if I can hold out until night, I might drop through the hole and escape in the darkness. I have broken a spar loose for a club. They are coming closer. I struck at that one. It just missed my head. They are gathering in a bunch. They are diving for me in one mass. I’m lost--Good-bye.” A shriek of a man in mortal agony and terror rang out in the air, followed by a shriek from the crowd. Then all was still. The people knew all was over in the far upper air. Men stood gazing upward, ghastly white, while women buried their faces in their hands and wept. A dull thud was heard at the far side of the infield and people began to gather there on a run. A hole showed where something had fallen with enough force to bury itself. Hurriedly digging, they unearthed an oxygen tank, one of the tanks that Kidwell and Dexter had taken up with them. A cry from some people as they pointed aloft drew thousands of eyes in that direction. Fluttering and falling, something was coming down. Several hands grabbed it as soon as it came within reach. One uttered a cry and let go. He held up his hands in horror. They were wet with fresh blood. A broken and torn part of an aeroplane wing, spattered with red blood, fell. Kidwell and the aeroplane must have been torn to pieces by the demons of the far upper air, and the tank and pieces of the plane scattered over the edge of the floating vegetable island, must have fallen to earth. Another shout and once more all looked aloft. The air was full in all directions with thousands of fluttering pieces that looked like paper. When they fell among the crowd a shout of surprise went up.