"Hurry!" Pember urged.
"Heave!" chorused the men on the ropes. The pulleys creaked.
The room suddenly blazed with a brilliant orange glow as a maddened sphere floated through the hole in the roof. It hung in the air, pulsating, scanning what was taking place below.
"Heave!" cried the two men. The pot was at an angle. The hatching sphere screamed to the globe above.
The floating sphere shrieked. Flame danced over its surface.
"It—It's got—eyes!" Masters said, spacing his words with tugs on the ropes.
"Don't look!" Taylor warned. "Heave!"
Pember faced the sphere. He patted his Garand.
"Give 'im hell, boy!"
He swung the rifle to his shoulder and fired. The bullet whined off the sphere as if it were steel. Pember jerked his head in despair. Angrily he fired again. His tin hat slid to one side of his head at a rakish angle.