Taylor entered the long forge room. A white hot splinter of metal hung from the crane. There were a dozen heaps of the glowing ashes scattered about the room, but no sign of life.
He moved on into the finishing room, where the long tubes of howitzers and field pieces lay in various stages of construction. Still there was silence.
The whispering grew louder, like a breeze stirring dry cornstalks.
The silence suddenly was broken by a scream. Then another. There was a sound of running footsteps.
Taylor dropped behind a lathe.
Through the door came an orange glow. Sharply outlined against the eerie light ran a human figure, a man in overalls, carrying a hammer. On the fellow's face was frozen fear. He halted, turned and looked behind him.
The darkness vanished as through the doorway floated a huge, orange sphere of light.
"Stop! Go back! I mean you no harm!" screamed the workman.
The ball of orange fire floated on toward him. The man's arm raised. He hurled the hammer straight at the sphere.
The missile rang, bounced back and fell to the sandy floor.