It was a mechanical shrilling of extraordinary intensity that seemed to come simultaneously from every point of the compass.
"They have missed us already!" cried Graham's guide in an accent of terror, and suddenly, with a blinding flash, the night became day.
Above the driving snow, from the summits of the wind-wheels, appeared vast masts carrying globes of livid light.

They receded in illimitable vistas in every direction.

As far as his eye could penetrate the snowfall they glared.
"Get on this," cried Graham's conductor, and thrust him forward to a long grating of snowless metal that ran like a band between two slightly sloping expanses of snow.

It felt warm to Graham's benumbed feet, and a faint eddy of steam rose from it.
"Come on!" shouted his guide ten yards off, and, without waiting, ran swiftly through the incandescent glare towards the iron supports of the next range of wind-wheels.

Graham, recovering from his astonishment, followed as fast, convinced of his imminent capture....
In a score of seconds they were within a tracery of glare and black shadows shot with moving bars beneath the monstrous wheels.