We dropped dizzily down an abrupt, seemingly endless slope; fell⁠—fell as into an abyss⁠—then shot abruptly out of the blackness into a throbbing green radiance. O’Keefe’s fingers must have pressed down upon the controls, for we leaped forward almost with the speed of light. I caught a glimpse of luminous immensities on the verge of which we flew; of depths inconceivable, and flitting through the incredible spaces⁠—gigantic shadows as of the wings of Israfel, which are so wide, say the Arabs, the world can cower under them like a nestling⁠—and then⁠—again the living blackness!

“What was that?” This from Larry, with the nearest approach to awe that he had yet shown.

“Trolldom!” croaked the voice of Olaf.

“ Chert! ” This from Marakinoff. “What a space!”