The sound of his own laughter had drowned it out at first, and then the two had mingled, and then as he stood gasping for new breath, as his hoarse voice rested, he heard it—welling as if from a great heavy throat, and now rising to a baleful cry, then falling—falling gently, and now a new thunder to drown it, a mightier thunder than the first.
Joshua Thorn stood transfixed as he watched the gleaming bullet-shape descend its pillar of fire. It could have been twin to Vanguard-I. It was descending—it was—maneuvering to be near him!
From somewhere far back in his brain the words formed again, and Mrs. Grundy here's dirt for you—you may have a new neighbor in your block but not like you at all—probably a world between you—don't take any wooden nickels....
But Daddy-o could never know, would never comprehend—
He was running, stumbling, falling, running again toward the spot where the red-starred satellite of the Enemy (Enemy, what a madman's word now!) would land.
Running like a child, running like an idiot, arms waving, mouth laughing, throat shouting—
Thank you, oh Thank you God....
