Instead, I turned around to watch, and so did Maxwell.
The policeman continued to whistle. Another dog, a large, shaggy collie, left the pack. But it was not timid, and it paid no attention to the policemen—it had seen Blekeke, and it rushed at him, snarling and yapping.
The Martian made a gurgling noise. A shudder shook his frame, and he turned and fired.
I was watching, without really comprehending what I saw, the policeman who had been whistling. Abruptly he stopped whistling. He was looking. But not at the dogs, nor at the other policemen. Not even at the shaggy collie that vanished suddenly in a blinding flash.
He was looking at the spaceship. And seeing it. He rubbed a hand across his eyes.
When the collie was hit, the terrier which had slunk forward turned. At five feet from Blekeke, it growled and leaped at him.
Blekeke collapsed. The blaster dropped from his hand, and he crumpled into a trembling, twitching, sobbing lump on the ground.
I rushed to grab the blaster, and Maxwell kicked the snarling, frightened dog away.
At the same time, the policeman yelled, "Jupiter! It is a spaceship! I knew I seen somethin'. I may have had a drink, but I ain't crazy!"
He fired while he was yelling, and the Martian who had been leaning from the port ducked inside. The ship shuddered and rose quickly, with a rumble that was almost drowned by the racket the dogs were making.