Silently they came, with almost the precision of automata in some complex mechanical process.  All were obeying the Master’s will, because obedience was sweet to them; because it spelled adventure, freedom, life.

Now and then one stopped, bent, arose with some added burden taken from a fallen guard.  Not one guard was to be injured in any manner.  Human life was not to be taken.  But nothing in the way of armament was to be left, by way of possible danger to the Legion.  And already the telephone-wires had been effectively cut.

All the approaching Legionaries wore rucksacks, and all were in their respective uniforms, though every man still wore a long coat that concealed it.  A few groups of two appeared, bearing rather heavy burdens.

The Master smiled again, and nodded, as he paused a moment at the gate to peer down, along the line of the clearing between stockade and forest.

“Here come some of the machine-guns,” said he.  “I shall be vastly surprised if one man or one single bit of equipment fails to appear on schedule time.  Nothing like system, Bohannan—­that, and knowing how to choose your men!”

He turned, and the other three followed him into the enclosure.  Outside, all was developing according to plans and specifications.  They four were to be pioneers into the jealously guarded space that for so long had been the mystery of the continent, yes, of the civilized world.

The whole enclosure was well lighted with a profusion of electric lamps.  At first view, quite a bewildering mass of small buildings appeared; but second glance showed order in them all.  Streets had been laid out, as in a town; and along these streets stood drafting-sheds, workshops, storehouses, commissary offices, dwellings for the workers, guards, and bosses.  A well-built cottage on the main, forward-going road that led from the gate to an inner stockade, was probably headquarters for the chief engineers.

Not one sign of conscious life appeared.  Men were lying here, there, in the roadways, in the porches, in the shadow of the power-plant where dynamos were still merrily singing.  Few were armed.  Most of them here were workers, judging by their garb and by the tools still in some hands.

The four pioneers gave them no heed, but pushed steadily on.  In the road lay a couple of pigeons, farther on a sparrow, and still farther a sleeping dog, showed how complete had been the effect of the lethal pellets.

The inner stockade was now close.  It stood about twice as high as the outer, was also topped with live wires and lights, and was loopholed for defense.  This formidable barrier was pierced by a small gate, flanked by two machine-guns.  On the gate-post was affixed an elaborate set of rules regarding those who might and might not enter.  The Master smiled dryly, and opened the gate.

Even from without, the loom of the monstrous airship had been visible.  The eye could hardly at first glance take in the vastness of this stupendous thing, that overshadowed all the central portion of the huge enclosure.  It gave a sense of power, of swift potentialities, of speed unlimited.  It stood there, tense, ready, waiting, with a hum of engines audible in its vast heart, a thing almost of life, man’s creation but how illimitably greater than man!