id about the windows also applies to Surtur. There's no need
to waste time over visualising him, because you are immediately going on
to the reality."

"Then let us go." He pressed his eyeballs wearily.

"Do we strip?" asked Nightspore.

"Naturally," answered Krag, and he began to tear off his clothes with
slow, uncouth movements.

"Why?" demanded Maskull, following, however, the example of the other
two men.

Krag thumped his vast chest, which was covered with thick hairs, like
an ape's. "Who knows what the Tormance fashions are like? We may sprout
limbs--I don't say we shall."

"A-ha!" exclaimed Maskull, pausing in the middle of his undressing.

Krag smote him on the back. "New pleasure organs possible, Maskull. You
like that?"

The three men stood as nature made them. Maskull's spirits rose fast, as
the moment of departure drew near.

"A farewell drink to success!" cried Krag, seizing a bottle and breaking
its head off between his fingers. There were no glasses, but he poured
the amber-coloured wine into some cracked cups.

Perceiving that the others drank, Maskull tossed off his cupful. It was
as if he had swallowed a draught of liquid electricity.... Krag dropped
onto the floor and rolled around on his back, kicking his legs in the
air. He tried to drag Maskull down on top of him, and a little horseplay
went on between the two. Nightspore took no part in it, but walked to
and fro, like a hungry caged animal.

Suddenly, from out-of-doors, there came a single prolonged, piercing
wail, such as a banshee might be imagined to utter. It ceased abruptly,
and was not repeated.

"What's that?" called out Maskull, disengaging himself impatiently from
Krag.

Krag rocked with laughter. "A Scottish spirit trying to reproduce the
bagpipes of its earth life--in honour of our departure."

Nightspore turned to Krag. "Maskull will sleep throughout the journey?"

"And you too, if you wish, my altruistic friend. I am pilot, and you
passengers can amuse yourselves as you please."

"Are we off at last?" asked Maskull.

"Yes, you are about to cross your Rubicon, Maskull. But what a
Rubicon!... Do you know that it takes light a hundred years or so to
arrive here from Arcturus? Yet we shall do it in nineteen hours."

"Then you assert that Surtur is already there?"

"Surtur is where he is. He is a great traveller."

"Won't I see him?"

Krag went up to him and looked him in the eyes. "Don't forget that you
have as