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Through the darkening sky swept a rosy pencil of living light; that utterly strange, pure beam whose coming never fails to clutch the throat of the beholder with the hand of ecstasy, the ray which the Tibetans name the Ting-Pa.
Yes into the ring's mouth the aurora flew, cascading in a columned stream to earth. Then swiftly, a mist swept over all the heavens, veiled that incredible cataract. "Magnetism?" muttered Drake. "I guess NOT!" "It struck about where the Ting-Pa was broken and seemed drawn down like the rays," I said. "Purposeful," Drake said. "And devilish. It hit on all my nerves like a like a metal claw.
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