Madeline stirred, 'Is it dark yet?'

'No,' lied Arthur with feeble cheerfulness. "He'll call before sundown, Mom. You just sleep and let me take care of things. Dad's upstairs working on that stat-field and he says he's making progress. In a few days everything will be all right.' He sat silently beside her and grasped her hand tightly. Her tired yes closed once more.

The signal light blinked on and, with a last look at his mother, he stepped out into the corridor, 'Well!'

The waiting Tweenie saluted smartly, 'John Barno wants to say that it looks as if we are in for a storm.' He handed over an official report.

Arthur glanced at it peevishly, 'What of that? We've had plenty so far, haven't we? What do you expect of Venus?'

'This will be a particularly bad one, from all indications. The barometer has fallen unprecedentedly. The ionic concentration of the upper atmosphere is at an unequalled maximum. The Beiilah River has overflowed its banks and is rising rapidly.'

The other frowned. 'There's not an entrance to Venustown that isn't at least fifty yards above river level. As for rain - our drainage system is to be relied upon.' He grimaced suddenly, 'Go back and tell Barno that it can storm for my part - for forty days and forty nights if it wants to. Maybe it will drive the Earthmen away.'

He turned away, but the Tweenie held his ground, 'Beg pardon sir, but that's not the worst. A scouting party today -'

Arthur whirled. 'A scouting party? Who ordered one to be sent out?'

'Your father, sir. They were to make contact with the Phibs, -I don't know why.'

'Well, go on.'

'Sir, the Phibs could not be located.'

And now, for the first time, Arthur was startled out of his savage ill-hum or, 'They were gone?'

The Tweenie nodded. 'It is thought that they have sought shelter from the coming storm. It is that which causes Barno to fear the worst.'

'They say rats desert a sinking ship,' murmured Arthur. He buried his head in trembling hands. 'God! Everything at once! Everything at once!'

The darkening twilight hid the pall of blackness that lowered over the mountains ahead and emphasized the darting flashes of lightning that flickered on and off continuously.

Irene shivered, 'It's getting sort of windy and chilly, isn't it?'

'The cold wind from the mountains. We're in for a storm, I guess,' Henry assented absently. 'I think the river is getting wider.'

A short silence, and then, with suddenly vivacity,. 'But look, Irene, only a few more miles to the lake and then we're practically at the Earth village. It's almost over.'

Irene nodded, 'I'm glad for all of us - and the Phibs, too.'

She had reason for the last statement. The Phibs were swimming slowly now. An additional detachment had arrived the day before from upstream, but even with those reinforcements, progress had slowed to a walk. Unaccustomed cold was nipping the multi-legged reptiles and they yielded to superior mental force more and more reluctantly.

The first drops fell just after they had passed the lake. Darkness had fallen, and in the blue glare of the lightning the trees about them were ghostly specters reaching swaying fingers toward the sky. A sudden flare in the distance marked the funeral pyre of a lightning-hit tree.

Henry paled. 'Make for the clearing just ahead. At a time like this, trees are dangerous.'

The clearing he spoke of composed the outskirts of the Earth village. The rough-hewn houses, crude and small against the fury of the elements, showed lights here and there that spoke of human occupancy. And as the first Centosaur stumbled out from between splintered trees, the storm suddenly burst in all its fury.

The two Tweenies huddled close. 'It's up to the Phibs,' screamed Henry, dimly heard above the wind and rain. 'I hope they can do it.'

The three monsters converged upon the houses ahead. They moved more rapidly as the Phibs called up every last line of mental power.

Irene buried her wet head in Henry's equally wet shoulder, 'I can't look! Those houses will go like matchsticks. Oh, the poor people!'

'No, Irene, no. They've stopped!'

The Centosaurs pawed vicious gouges out of the ground beneath and their screams rang shrill and clear above the noise of the storm. Startled Earthmen rushed from their cabins.

Caught unprepared - most having been roused from sleep -and faced with a Venusian storm and nightmarish Venusian monsters, there was no question of organized action. As they stood, carrying nothing but their clothes, they broke and ran.

There was the utmost confusion. One or two, with dim attempts at presence of mind, took wild, ineffectual pot-shots at the mountains of flesh before them - and then ran.

And when it seemed that all were gone, the giant reptiles surged forward once more and where once had been houses, there were left only mashed splinters.

'They'll never come back, Irene, they'll never come back.' Henry was breathless at the success of his plan. 'We're heroes now, and -' His voice rose to a hoarse shriek, 'Irene, get back! Make for the trees!'

The Centosaurian howls had taken on a deeper note. The nearest one reared onto his two hindmost pairs of legs and his great head, two hundred feet above ground, was silhouetted horribly against the lightning. With a rumbling thud, he came down on all feet again and made for the river - which under the lash of the storm was now a raging flood.

The Phibs had lost control!

Henry's Tonite gun flashed into quick action as he shoved Irene away. She, however, backed away slowly and brought her own gun into line.

The ball of purple light that meant a hit blazed into being and the nearest Centosaur screamed in agony as its mighty tail threshed aside the surrounding trees. Blindly, the hole where once a leg had been gushing blood, it charged.

A second glare of purple and it was down with an earth-shaking thud, its last shriek reaching a crescendo of shrill frightfulness.

But the other two monsters were crashing toward them. They blundered blindly toward the source of the power that had held them captive almost a week; driving violently with all the force of their mindless hate to the river. And in the path of the Juggernauts were the two Tweenies.

The boiling torrent was at their backs. The forest was a groaning wilderness of splintered trees and ear-splitting sound.

Then, suddenly, the report of Tonite guns sounded from the distance. Purple glares - a flurry of threshing - spasmodic shrieking - and then a silence in which even the wind, as if overawed by recent events, held its peace momentarily.

Henry yelled his glee and performed an impromptu war-dance. 'They've come from Venustown, Irene,' he shouted. 'They've got the Centosaurs and everything's finished! We've saved the Tweenies!'

It happened in a breath's time. Irene had dropped her gun and sobbed her relief. She was running to Henry and then she-tripped - and the river had her.

'Henry!' The wind whipped the sound away.

For one dreadful moment, Henry found himself incapable of motion. He could only stare stupidly, unbelievingly, at the spot where Irene had been, and then he was in the water. He plunged into the surrounding backness desperately.

'Irene!' He caught his breath with difficulty. The current drove him on.

'Irene!' No sound but the wind. His efforts at swimming were futile. He couldn't even break surface for more than a second at a time, his lungs were bursting.

'Irene!' There was no answer. Nothing but rushing water and darkness.

And then something touched him. He lashed out at it instinctively, but the grip tightened. He felt himself borne up into the air. His tortured lungs breathed in gasps. A grinning Phib face stared into his and after that there was nothing but confused impressions of cold, dark wetness.