With ripping,
tearing noises, it bent sedately toward the smoking, far-away mountain.
It crashed thunderously down upon smaller trees. There were other
rending noises. The flying things rose higher, seeming agitated. Echoes
sounded in the ears of the two atop the hill.
There was another sharp shock. Babs gave a little, inarticulate cry. She
pointed.
There was much smoke in the distance. Over the far-away cone, which was
indistinct in the smoke of its own making--over the edge of the distant
mountains a glare appeared. It was a thin line of bright white light.
With infinite deliberation it began to creep down the slanting,
blessedly remote mountainside.
The ground seemed to shift abruptly, and then shift back. Across and
down the valley, five miles away, a portion of the stony wall detached
itself and slid downward in seeming slow motion. Two more great trees
made ripping sounds. One crashed. There was an enormous darkness above
one part of the sky. Its under side glowed from fires as of hell, in the
crater beneath it. There were sparkings above the mountaintop.
Very oddly indeed, the sky overhead was peacefully blue.
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