Drake gathered himself; strained to loosen his feet from the shining surface, making ready to leap when they should draw close enough.

His great chest swelled with his effort, the muscles of his neck knotted, sweat steamed down his face.
"No use," he gasped, "no use, Goodwin.

It's like trying to lift yourself by your boot-straps--like a fly stuck in molasses." "Ruth," cried Ventnor once more.
As though it had been a signal the block darted forward, resuming the distance it had formerly maintained between us.
The vanguard of the Metal Things began to race.

With an incredible speed they fled into, were lost in an instant within, the luminous distances.
The cube that bore the woman and girl accelerated; flew faster and faster onward.

And as swiftly our own followed it.