As they looked out I saw both their faces change--Olaf's with awe, O'Keefe's with incredulous amaze.

I hurried to their side.
At first all that I could see was space--a space filled with the same coruscating effulgence that pulsed about me.

I glanced upward, obeying that instinctive impulse of earth folk that bids them seek within the sky for sources of light.

There was no sky--at least no sky such as we know--all was a sparkling nebulosity rising into infinite distances as the azure above the day-world seems to fill all the heavens--through it ran pulsing waves and flashing javelin rays that were like shining shadows of the aurora; echoes, octaves lower, of those brilliant arpeggios and chords that play about the poles.

My eyes fell beneath its splendour; I stared outward.
Miles away, gigantic luminous cliffs sprang sheer from the limits of a lake whose waters were of milky opalescence.