"
Babs looked from the ship to him, and back again. Then her eyes went
fearfully to the remote mountain. Rumblings came from it now. They were
not loud. They were hardly more than dull growlings, at the lower limit
of audible pitch. They were like faint and distant thunder. There were
flashings like lightning in the cloud which now enveloped the mountain's
top.
Cochrane made an indescribable small sound. He stared at the ship. As
explosion-waves passed over the ground, a faint, unanimous movement of
the treetops became visible. It seemed to Cochrane that the space-ship
wavered as if about to fall from its upright position.
It was not designed to stand such violence as a fall would imply. Its
hull would be dented or rent. It was at least possible that its
fuel-store would detonate. But even if its fall were checked by
still-standing trees about it, it could never take off again. The eight
humans of its company could never juggle it back to a vertical position.
Rocket-thrust would merely push it in the direction its nose pointed.
Toppled, its rocket-thrust would merely shove it blindly over stones and
trees and to destruction.
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