.

THE PORTAL OF FLAME.
It was as though we were on a meteor hurtling through space.

The split air shrieked and shrilled, a keening barrier against the avalanche of the thunder.

The blast bent us far back on thighs held rigid by the magnetic grip.
The pony spread its legs, dropped its head; through the hurricane roaring its screaming pierced thinly, that agonizing, terrible lamentation which is of the horse and the horse alone when the limit of its endurance is reached.
Ventnor crouched lower and lower, eyes shielded behind arms folded over his brows, straining for a glimpse of Ruth; Drake crouched beside him, bracing him, supporting him against the tempest.
Our line of flight became less abrupt, but the speed increased, the wind-pressure became almost insupportable.

I twisted, dropped upon my right arm, thrust my head against my shoulder, stared backward.