Tales of Terror and Mystery
The Horror of the Heights
Howtheysquealandsqueakandsobwhentheyareintrouble!Allthosecriesforhelpwerewastedintheolddays,wheneverysoundwasswallowedupbythemonstrousracketofthemachine.Ifonlytheearlyaviatorscouldcomebacktoseethebeautyandperfectionofthemechanismwhichhavebeenboughtatthecostoftheirlives!
"Aboutnine-thirtyIwasnearingtheclouds.Downbelowme,allblurredandshadowedwithrain,laythevastexpanseofSalisburyPlain.Halfadozenflyingmachinesweredoinghackworkatthethousand-footlevel,lookinglikelittleblackswallowsagainstthegreenbackground.IdaresaytheywerewonderingwhatIwasdoingupincloud-land.Suddenlyagreycurtaindrewacrossbeneathmeandthewetfoldsofvapourswereswirlingroundmyface.Itwasclammilycoldandmiserable.ButIwasabovethehail-storm,andthatwassomethinggained.ThecloudwasasdarkandthickasaLondonfog.Inmyanxietytogetclear,Icockedhernoseupuntiltheautomaticalarm-bellrang,andIactuallybegantoslidebackwards.MysoppedanddrippingwingshadmademeheavierthanIthought,butpresentlyIwasinlightercloud,andsoonhadclearedthefirstlayer.Therewasasecond—opal-colouredandfleecy—atagreatheightabovemyhead,awhite,unbrokenceilingabove,andadark,unbrokenfloorbelow,withthemonoplanelabouringupwardsuponavastspiralbetweenthem.Itisdeadlylonelyinthesecloud-spaces.Onceagreatflightofsomesmallwater-birdswentpastme,flyingveryfasttothewestwards.Thequickwhiroftheirwingsandtheirmusicalcrywerecheerytomyear.
