The bird dodged back and forth, picking now and then at the bottom of the plane with its armored beak. He leaned further trying to get in a shot, and drew a chorus of yells from the bird, but no more definite result. Bang! Again. Miss. Out of the tail of his eye he saw the line of green leap into being again. Flap, flap went the wings beneath him.
Suddenly from below and behind him there rose a deep humming roar, low pitched and musical. Abruptly the screaming of the bird ceased; it dropped suddenly away, its forewings folded, the rear wings spread, glider-like as it floated to the ground. He turned to look in the direction of the sound, and as he turned a great glare of light sprang forth from somewhere back there, striking him full in the eyes with blinding force. At the same moment something pushed the Roamer forward and down, down, down. He could feel the plane give beneath him, but in the blind haze of light his fumbling fingers could not find the stick, and as he fell a wave of burning heat struck his back and the sound of a mighty torrent reached his ears. There was a crash and everything went out in a confusion of light, heat and sound.
When he recovered consciousness the first thing he saw was a blue dome, stretched so far above his head that it might have been the sky save for the fact that the light it gave had neither glare nor shadow. He puzzled idly over this for a moment, then tried to turn his head. It would not move. "That's queer," thought Herbert Sherman, and attempted to lift an arm. The hands responded readily enough but the arms were immovable. With an effort he tried to lift his body and discovered that he was tightly held by some force he could not feel.
Herbert Sherman was a patient man but not a meek one. He opened his mouth and yelled—a good loud yell with a hard swearword at the end of it. Then he stood still for a moment, listening. There was a sound that might be interpreted as the patter of feet somewhere, but no one came near him, so he yelled again, louder if possible.
This time the result accrued with a rapidity that was almost startling. A vivid bluish light struck him in the face, making him blink, then was turned off, and he heard a clash of gears and a hum that might be that of a motor. A moment later he felt himself lifted, whirled round, dropped with a plunk, and the blue dome overhead began to flow past at rapidly mounting speed to be blotted out in a grey dimness. He perceived he was being carried down some kind of a passage whose ceiling consisted of dark stone. A motor whirred rapidly.
The stone ceiling vanished; another blue dome, less lofty, took its place. The object on which he was being carried stopped with a mechanical click and he was lifted, whirled round again and deposited on some surface. Out of the corner of his eye he caught a glimpse of something round, of a shining black coloring, with pinkish highlights, like the head of some enormous beast, and wiggled his fingers in angry and futile effort.
He was flopped over on his face and found himself looking straight down at a grey mass which from its feel on nose and chin, appeared to be rubber.
He yelled again, with rage and vexation and in reply received a tap over the head with what felt like a rubber hose. He felt extraordinarily helpless. And as the realization came that he was helpless, without any control of what was going on he relaxed. After all, there was no use.... Some kind of examination was in progress. There was the sound of soft-treading feet behind him.