"The gates of the Temple of Janus are open wide--and now comes War!" He rose again, skimming to a still higher altitude as the glare of the great Works drew closer and closer underneath.

The wind roared in his ears, louder than the whirling propellers.

The whole fabric of the aeroplane quivered as it climbed, up, up above the rushing, bellowing cataract.
"Where are the others ?" thought he, and reached for a thanatos projectile, in the rack near the metal cup where the punk still glowered.
All at once, a glare of light burst upward through the white-glowing mist; and the 'plane reeled with the air-wave, as now a thunderous concussion boomed across the empty spaces of the sky.
At the same moment, a faint, ripping noise mounted to Gabriel--a sound for all the world like the tearing of stout canvas.

Then followed a chattering racket, something like distant mowing-machines at work; and now all blent to a steady, determined uproar.

Gabriel almost thought to hear, as he launched his own projectile, far sounds as of the shouts and cries of men; but of this he could not make sure.
"They're at it, anyhow!" he exulted.