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Updated: May 12, 2025
"Is that a rain cloud comin' up?" Wayland glanced back. The heavy dust rose a red-black curtain above the flame-crested ridges of orange sand. "You're a churchman, sir! You should know! Ever read in Scripture of the cloud by day and the pillar by night? Ever think what that might mean on the scorching Red Sea job when Moses led a personally conducted tour through the desert?"
"Now you let me run this," he commanded; "we got to find out somethin'. It ain't no good to us without we knows and we want to find out how he's got the rest hid." They assented. "I'm goin' out to help him carry her in," announced the seaman. A long pause ensued, in which I watched the deep canopy of red-black thicken overhead.
Everywhere the plain has a mangled outline. Below that horizon, sometimes blue-black and sometimes red-black, the plain is monumental! I have not changed my place. I open my eyes. Have I been sleeping? I do not know. There is tranquil light now. It is evening or morning. My arms alone can tremble. I am enrooted like a distorted bush. My wound? It is that which glues me to the ground.
Once up on top of that lava bed, Gale saw stretching away, breaking into millions of crests and ruts, a vast, red-black field sweeping onward and upward, with ragged, low ridges and mounds and spurs leading higher and higher to a great, split escarpment wall, above which dim peaks shone hazily blue in the distance. He looked no more in that direction.
Their slanting, abbreviated shadows were sharply defined, and red-black in colour. Maskull, who walked on Sullenbode's right hand, looked constantly to the left, toward the galaxy of glorious distant peaks. "You cannot belong to this world," said the woman. "Men of your stamp are not to be looked for here." "No, I have come here from Earth." "Is that larger than our world?" "Smaller, I think.
Then one sees an enemy shell drop among the little patch of trees on the crest to the right, and kick up a great red-black mass of smoke and dust. We see it, and then we hear the whine of its arrival and at last the bang. The Germans are blind now, they have lost the air, they are firing by guesswork and their knowledge of the abandoned territory.
The central bed allows no short cut across: it is a series of rubbish-heaps, parasitic cones, walls, and lumps of red-black lavas, trachytes, and phonolites reposing upon a deluge of frozen volcanic froth ejected by early eruptions. The aspect was rejoicing as the Arabian desert: I would willingly have spent six months in the purest of pure air.
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