And--even he could not have foreseen the astounding results of
his piping! What happened next was as astonishing as it was
incomprehensible. For as the pipes, filled now and primed to burst into
whatever substitute for melody they were prodded into, wailed into
action--the Grannies' rush came to an abrupt halt!
As one, they stopped cold in their tracks and turned dull, colorless,
questioning eyes upward into the tree whence came this weird and
vibrant droning!
So stunned with surprise was Isobar that his grip on the pipes relaxed,
his lips almost slipped from the reed. But Brown's delighted bellow
lifted his paralysis.
"Sacred rings of Saturn-look! They _like_ it! Keep playing, Jonesy!
Play, boy, like you never played before!"
And Roberts roared, above the skirling of the _piobaireachd_ into
which Isobar had instinctively swung, "Music hath charms to soothe the
savage beast! Then we were wrong. They _can_ hear, after all! See that?
They're lying down to listen--like so many lambs! Keep playing, Isobar!
For once in my life I'm glad to hear that lovely, wonderful music!"
Isobar needed no urging. He, too, had noted how the Grannies' attack
had stopped, how every last one of the gaunt grey beasts had suddenly,
quietly, almost happily, dropped to its haunches at the base of the
tree.
There was no doubt about it; the Grannies _liked_ this music. Eyes
raptly fixed, unblinking, unwavering, they froze into postures of
gentle beatitude. One stirred once, dangerously, as for a moment Isobar
paused to catch his breath, but Isobar hastily lipped the blow-pipe
with redoubled eagerness, and the Granny relapsed into quietude.
Followed then what, under somewhat different circumstances, should have
been a piper's dream. For Isobar had an audience which would not--and
in two cases _dared_ not--allow him to stop playing. And to this
audience he played over and over again his entire repertoire. Marches,
flings, dances--the stirring _Rhoderik Dhu_ and the lilting _Lassies
O'Skye_, the mournful _Coghiegh nha Shie_ whose keening is like the
sound of a sobbing nation.
_The Cock o' the North_, he played, and _Mironton_ ... _Wee Flow'r o'
Dee_ and _MacArthur's March_ ... _La Cucuracha_ and--
And his lungs were parched, his lips dry as swabs of cotton. Blood
pounded through his temples, throbbing in time to the drone of the
chaunter, and a dark mist gathered before his eyes. He tore the
blow-pipe from his lips, gasped,
"Keep playing!" came the dim, distant howl of Johnny Brown. "Just a few
minutes longer, Jonesy! Relief is on the way. Sparks saw us from his
turret window five minutes ago!"
And Isobar played on. How, or what, he did not know. The memory of
those next few minutes was never afterward clear in his mind. All he
knew was that above the skirling drone of his pipes there came another
sound, the metallic clanking of a man-made machine ... an armored tank,
sent from the Dome to rescue the beleaguered trio.
He was conscious, then, of a friendly voice shouting words of
encouragement, of Joe Roberts calling a warning to those below.
"Careful, boys! Drive the tank right up beneath us so we can hop in and
get out of here! Watch the Grannies--they'll be after us the minute
Isobar stops playing!"
Then the answer from below. The fantastic answer in Sparks' familiar
voice. The answer that caused the bagpipes to slip from Isobar's
fingers as Isobar Jones passed out in a dead faint:
"After you? Those Grannies? Hell's howling acres--_those Grannies are
stone dead_!"
* * * * *
Afterward, Isobar Jones said weakly, "But--dead? I don't understand.
Was it the sound-waves that killed them?"
Commander Eagan said, "No! Grannies absolutely cannot hear. That is
one thing we do know about them--though we will soon know a great deal
more, now that our biologists have a dozen carcasses to dissect, thanks
to you. But Grannies have no auditory apparatus."
"But then--what?" puzzled Isobar. "It couldn't be vibration, because
our Patrolmen tried shootin' 'em with the vibro-ray pistol, and
nothin' never happened--"
"Nevertheless," said Dr. Loesch quietly, "it _was_ vibration which
killed them, Isobar. That is, of course, only my conjecture, but I
believe subsequent study will prove I am correct.
"It was the effect of _dual_, or disharmonic vibration. You see, the
vibro-ray pistol expels an ultrasonic wave which disrupts molecular
construction sensitive to a single harmonic. The Grannies' composition
is more complex. It required the impact of two different wave-lengths,
impinging on their nerve centers at the same moment, to destroy them."
"And the bagpipe--" said Isobar with slowly dawning
comprehension--"emits two distinct tones at the same time!"
The full meaning of his words flashed upon Isobar. He turned to
Commander Eagan, sallow cheeks glowing with new color.
"Then--then what means we've licked our problem!" he cried. "We've
found a weapon that'll kill the Grannies, and it won't be necessary to
live inside Domes no more! Now we can move out into the open and live
like human beings!"
"Absolutely true!" agreed the Commander. "But _you_ will not be living
Outside, Jones. Not right away, anyway."
"H-uh? W-hat do you mean, Commander?"
"I mean," said Eagan sternly, "that regardless of results, you are
still guilty of flagrant disobedience to orders! That, as Commander of
this outpost, I cannot tolerate. You are hereby sentenced to thirty
days confinement to quarters!"
"But--" stammered Isobar--"but tarnation golly--"
"In the course of which time," continued Commander Eagan imperturbably,
"you will serve as Instructor for every man in the Dome--at double
salary!"
"You can't _do_ me like this!" wailed Isobar. "Jinky-wallopers, I
won't--Huh? What's 'at? Instructor? Instructor in _what_?"
"In the--er--art," said Eagan, "of bagpipe playing. If we are to
rid Luna of the Grannies, we must all learn how to perform on
that--er--lethal weapon. And, Jones, I think I can truthfully say that
this punishment hurts me more than it hurts you!"