For some time this strange party of refugees from an outraged world walked in silence.  Because of their size, the tunnel appeared to them now not more than eight or nine feet in height, and in most places of nearly similar width.  For perhaps ten minutes no one spoke except an occasional monosyllable.  The Chemist and Big Business Man, walking abreast, were leading; Aura and Lylda with the Very Young man, and Loto close in front of them, brought up the rear.

The tunnel they were traversing appeared quite deserted; only once, at the intersection of another smaller passageway, a few little figures-not more than a foot high-scurried past and hastily disappeared.  Once the party stopped for half an hour to rest.

“I don’t think we’ll have any trouble getting through,” said the Chemist.  “The tunnels are usually deserted at the time of sleep.”

The Big Business Man appeared not so sanguine, but said nothing.  Finally they came to one of the large amphitheaters into which several of the tunnels opened.  In size, it appeared to them now a hundred feet in length and with a roof some twelve feet high.  The Chemist stopped to let the others come up.

“I think our best route is there,” he pointed.

“It is not so high a tunnel; we shall have to get smaller.  Beyond it they are larger again.  It is not far-half an hour, perhaps, walking as we -”

A cry from Aura interrupted him.

“My brother, see, they come,” she exclaimed.

Before them, out of several of the smaller passageways, a crowd of little figures was pouring.  There were no shouts; there was seemingly no confusion; just a steady, flowing stream of human forms, emptying from the tunnels into the amphitheater and spreading out over its open surface.

The fugitives stared a moment in horror.  “Good God! they’ve got us,” the
Doctor muttered, breaking the tenseness of the silence.

The little people kept their distance at first, and then as the open space filled up, slowly they began coming closer, in little waves of movement, irresistible as an incoming tide.

Aura turned towards the passageway through which they had entered.  “We can go back,” she said.  And then.  “No-see, they come there, too.”  A crowd of the little gray figures blocked that entrance also-a crowd that hesitated an instant and then came forward, spreading out fan-shape as it came.

The Big Business Man doubled up his fists.

“It’s fight,” he said grimly.  “By God! we’ll -” but Lylda, with a low cry, flung herself before him.

“No, no,” she said passionately.  “Not that; it cannot be that now, just at the last -”

Aura laid a hand upon her sister’s shoulder.

“Wait, my sister,” she said gently.  “There is no matter of justice here-for you, a woman-to decide.  This is for men to deal with-a matter for men-our men.  And what they say to do-that must be done.”

She turned to the Chemist and the Very Young Man, who were standing side by side.

“A woman-cannot kill,” she said slowly.  “Unless-her man-says it so.  Or if to save him -”

Her eyes flashed fire; she held her slim little body erect and rigid-an Amazon ready to fight to the death for those she loved.

The Chemist hesitated a moment.  Before he could answer, a single shrill cry sounded from somewhere out in the silent, menacing throng.  As though at a signal, a thousand little voices took it up, and with a great rush the crowd swept forward.

In the first moment of surprise and indecision the group of fugitives stood motionless.  As the wave of little, struggling human forms closed in around them, the Very Young Man came to himself with a start.  He looked down.  They were black around him now, swaying back and forth about his legs.  Most of them were men, armed with the short, broad-bladed swords, or with smaller knives.  Some brandished other improvised weapons; still others held rocks in their hands.

A little pair of arms clutched the Very Young Man about his leg; he gave a violent kick, scattering a number of the struggling figures and clearing a space into which he leaped.

“Back-Aura, Lylda,” he shouted.  “Take Loto and Eena.  Get back behind us.”

The Big Business Man, kicking violently, and sometimes stooping down to sweep the ground with great swings of his arm, had cleared a space before them.  Taking Loto, who looked on with frightened eyes, the three women stepped back against the side wall of the amphitheater.

The Very Young Man swiftly discarded his robe, standing in the knitted under-suit in which he had swam the lake; the other men followed his example.  For ten minutes or more in ceaseless waves, the little creatures threw themselves forward, and were beaten back.  The confined space echoed with their shouts, and with the cries of the wounded.  The five men fought silently.  Once the Doctor stumbled and fell.  Before his friends could get to him, his body was covered with his foes.  When he got back upon his feet, knocking them off, he was bleeding profusely from an ugly-looking wound in his shoulder.

“Good God!” he panted as the Chemist and the Big Business Man leaped over to him.  “They’ll get us-if we go down.”

“We can get larger,” said the Big Business Man, pointing upwards to the roof overhead.  “Larger-and then -” He swayed a trifle, breathing hard.  His legs were covered with blood from a dozen wounds.

Oteo, fighting back and forth before them, was holding the crowd in check; a heap of dead lay in a semicircle in front of him.

“I’m going across,” shouted the Very Young Man suddenly, and began striding forward into the struggling mass.

The crowd, thus diverted, eased its attack for a moment.  Slowly the Very Young Man waded into it.  He was perhaps fifty feet out from the side wall when a stone struck him upon the temple.  He went down, out of sight in the seething mass.

“Come on,” shouted the Big Business Man.  But before he could move, Aura dashed past him, fighting her way out to where the Very Young Man lay.  In a moment she was beside him.  Her fragile body seemed hopelessly inadequate for such a struggle, but the spirit within her made her fight like a wild-cat.

Catching one of the little figures by the legs she flung him about like a club, knocking a score of the others back and clearing a space about the Very Young Man.  Then abruptly she dropped her victim and knelt down, plucking away the last of the attacking figures who was hacking at the Very Young Man’s arm with his sword.

The Chemist and Big Business Man were beside her now, and together they carried the Very Young Man back.  He had recovered consciousness, and smiled up at them feebly.  They laid him on the ground against the wall, and Aura sat beside him.

“Gosh, I’m all right,” he said, waving them away.  “Be with you in a minute; give ’em hell!”

The Doctor knelt beside the Very Young Man for a moment, and, finding he was not seriously hurt, left him and rejoined the Chemist and Big Business Man, who, with Oteo, had forced the struggling mass of little figures some distance away.

“I’m going to get larger,” shouted the Big Business Man a moment later.  “Wipe them all out, damn it; I can do it.  We can’t keep on this way.”

The Doctor was by his side.

“You can’t do it-isn’t room,” he shouted in answer, pausing as he waved one of his assailants in the air above his head.  “You might take too much.”

The Big Business Man was reaching with one hand under his robe.  With his feet he kicked violently to keep the space about him clear.  A tiny stone flew by his head; another struck him on the chest, and all at once he realized that he was bruised all over from where other stones had been hitting him.  He looked across to the opposite wall of the amphitheater.  Through the tunnel entrance there he saw that the stream of little people was flowing the other way now.  They were trying to get out, instead of pouring in.

The Big Business Man waved his arms.  “They’re running away-look,” he shouted.  “They’re running-over there-come on.”  He dashed forward, and, followed by his companions, redoubled his efforts.

The crowd wavered; the shouting grew less; those further away began running back.

Then suddenly a shrill cry arose-just a single little voice it was at first.  After a moment others took it up, and still others, until it sounded from every side-three Oroid words repeated over and over.

The Chemist abruptly stopped fighting.  “It’s done,” he shouted.  “Thank God it’s over.”

The cry continued.  The little figures had ceased attacking now and were struggling in a frenzy to get through the tunnels.

“No more,” shouted the Chemist.  “They’re going.  See them going?  Stop.”

His companions stood by his side, panting and weak from loss of blood.  The Chemist tried to smile.  His face was livid; he swayed unsteadily on his feet.  “No more,” he repeated.  “It’s over.  Thank God, it’s over!”

Meanwhile the Very Young Man, lying on the floor with Aura sitting beside him, revived a little.  He tried to sit up after a few moments, but the girl pulled him down.

“But I got to go-give ’em hell,” he protested weakly.  His head was still confused; he only knew he should be back, fighting beside his friends.

“Not yet,” Aura said gently.  “There is no need-yet.  When there is, you may trust me, Jack; I shall say it.”

The Very Young Man closed his eyes.  The blurred, iridescent outlines of the rocks confused him; his head was ringing.  The girl put an arm under his neck.  He found one of her hands, and held it tightly.  For a moment he lay silent.  Then his head seemed to clear a little; he opened his eyes.

“What are they doing now, Aura?” he asked.

“It is no different,” the girl answered softly.  “So terrible a thing-so terrible -” she finished almost to herself.

“I’ll wait-just a minute more,” he murmured and closed his eyes again.

He held the girl’s hand tighter.  He seemed to be floating away, and her hand steadied him.  The sounds of the fighting sounded very distant now-all blurred and confused and dreamlike.  Only the girl’s nearness seemed real-the touch of her little body against his as she sat beside him.

“Aura,” he whispered.  “Aura.”

She put her face down to his.  “Yes, Jack,” she answered gently.

“It’s very bad-there-don’t you think?”

She did not answer.

“I was just thinking,” he went on; he spoke slowly, almost in a whisper.  “Maybe-you know-we won’t come through this.”  He paused; his thoughts somehow seemed too big to put into words.  But he knew he was very happy.

“I was just thinking, Aura, that if we shouldn’t come through I just wanted you to know -” Again he stopped.  From far away he heard the shrill, rhythmic cry of many voices shouting in unison.  He listened, and then it all came back.  The battle-his friends there fighting-they needed him.  He let go of the girl’s hand and sat up, brushing back his moist hair.

“Listen, Aura.  Hear them shouting; I mustn’t stay here.”  He tried, weakly, to get upon his feet, but the girl’s arm about his waist held him down.

“Wait,” she said.  Surprised by the tenseness of her tone, he relaxed.

The cry grew louder, rolling up from a thousand voices and echoing back and forth across the amphitheater.  The Very Young Man wondered vaguely what it could mean.  He looked into Aura’s face.  Her lips were smiling now.

“What is it, Aura?” he whispered.

The girl impulsively put her arms about him and held him close.

“But we are coming through, my friend Jack.  We are coming through.”  The Very Young Man looked wonderingly into her eyes.  “Don’t you hear?  That cry-the cry of fear and despair.  It means-life to us; and no more death-to them.”

The Chemist’s voice came out of the distance shouting:  “They’re running away.  It’s over; thank God it’s over!”

Then the Very Young Man knew, and life opened up before him again.  “Life,” he whispered to himself.  “Life and love and happiness.”