Yes, we could see its every outline.

It was the _crux ansata_, the Symbol of Life itself.
The symbol vanished, the fire sank.

Again it blazed up more fiercely than before and the loop appeared afresh, then once more disappeared.
A third time the fire shone, and with such intensity, that no lightning could surpass its brilliance.

All around the heavens were lit up, and, through the black needle-shaped eye of the symbol, as from the flare of a beacon, or the search-light of a ship, one fierce ray shot across the sea of mountain tops and the spaces of the desert, straight as an arrow to the lofty peak on which we lay.

Yes, it lit upon the snow, staining it red, and upon the wild, white faces of us who watched, though to the right and left of us spread thick darkness.