XII

           DanforthandIhaverecollectionsofemergingintothegreatsculpturedhemisphereandofthreadingourbacktrailthroughtheCyclopeanroomsandcorridorsofthedeadcity;yetthesearepurelydreamfragmentsinvolvingnomemoryofvolition,details,orphysicalexertion. Itwasasifwefloatedinanebulousworldordimensionwithouttime,causation,ororientation. Thegrayhalf-daylightofthevastcircularspacesoberedussomewhat;butwedidnotgonearthosecachedsledgesorlookagainatpoorGedneyandthedog. Theyhaveastrangeandtitanicmausoleum,andIhopetheendofthisplanetwillfindthemstillundisturbed. 

           Itwaswhilestrugglingupthecolossalspiralinclinethatwefirstfelttheterriblefatigueandshortbreathwhichourracethroughthethinplateauairhadproduced;butnotevenfearofcollapsecouldmakeuspausebeforereachingthenormalouterrealmofsunandsky. Therewassomethingvaguelyappropriateaboutourdeparturefromthoseburiedepochs;foraswewoundourpantingwayupthesixty-footcylinderofprimalmasonry,weglimpsedbesideusacontinuousprocessionofheroicsculpturesinthedeadrace’searlyandundecayedtechnique—afarewellfromtheOldOnes,writtenfiftymillionyearsago. 

           Finallyscramblingoutatthetop,wefoundourselvesonagreatmoundoftumbledblocks,withthecurvedwallsofhigherstoneworkrisingwestward,andthebroodingpeaksofthegreatmountainsshowingbeyondthemorecrumbledstructurestowardtheeast. Thelowantarcticsunofmidnightpeeredredlyfromthesouthernhorizonthroughriftsinthejaggedruins,andtheterribleageanddeadnessofthenightmarecityseemedallthestarkerbycontrastwithsuchrelativelyknownandaccustomedthingsasthefeaturesofthepolarlandscape.