Again as at a command four of the things moved, swirled in toward each other with a weird precision, with a monstrous martial mimicry; joined; stood before us, a platform twelve feet square, six high.
"Mount," sighed Norhala.
Ventnor looked helplessly at the sheer front facing him.
"Mount." There was half-wondering impatience in her command.

"See!" She caught Ruth by the waist and with the same bewildering swiftness with which she had vanished from us when the aurora beckoned she stood, holding the girl, upon the top of the single cube.

It was as though the two had been lifted, had been levitated with an incredible rapidity.
"Mount," she murmured again, looking down upon us.
Slowly Ventnor began to bandage the pony's eyes.

I placed my hand upon the edge of the quadruple; sprang.

A myriad unseen hands caught me, raised me, set me instantaneously on the upward surface.
"Lift the pony to me," I called to Ventnor.
"Lift it ?" he echoed, incredulously.
Drake's grin cut like a sunray through the nightmare dread that shrouded my mind.
"Catch," he called; placed one hand beneath the beast's belly, the other under its throat; his shoulders heaved--and up shot the pony, laden as it was, landed softly upon four wide-stretched legs beside me.