Then all at once she skidded clear of the track, slanted upward, breasted the air.

Her searchlight blazed.

All along her flanks, fire-jets spangled the night.

Cries echoed from her, from the great stockade.
The Master gave her all the lift the farthest wrench of the levers would thrust on her.

The gate was almost shut now--would she clear it?
Below, track, earth, everything was spinning in and in.