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Serviss, Garrett P. (Garrett Putman), 1851-1929

"A Columbus of Space"

A knife had penetrated his side, and there was considerable
effusion of blood, but I was surgeon enough to feel sure that the wound
was not mortal. He roused up as he felt us working over him, and opening
his eyes, said faintly:
"You will find bandages under the locker. What has happened? We are
moving."
"The tower is all in flames!" exclaimed Jack, before I could interrupt
him, for I should have preferred not to tell Edmund the real situation
just at that moment.
Jack's words roused him like an electric shock. He pushed us aside, and
struggled to his feet. Then he sprang to a knob, and brought the car to
rest.
We had been moving slowly, and had not gone more than a quarter of a mile
from the tower. The car had swung round so that the fire was not visible
from the open door, but now, as Edmund arrested its progress, it swayed
back again and the spectacle burst into view. The heat smote us in the
face even at this distance. In the few minutes since I had last seen the
tower the flames had made incredible progress. The whole of the immense
structure was blazing. Spires of flame leaped and swayed from its summit,
partitions were falling, platforms giving way, and hundreds of air ships
caught by the sheets of fire were crumpling and falling in swooping
curves like birds whose wings had been seared.


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