It seemed indeed as if the whole country in that direction was on
fire--a broad hillside set with minute tongues of flame, swaying and
writhing with the gusts of the dying storm, and throwing a red
reflection upon the cloud-scud above.  Every now and then a haze of
smoke from some nearer conflagration drove across the window and hid
the Martian shapes.  I could not see what they were doing, nor the
clear form of them, nor recognise the black objects they were busied
upon.  Neither could I see the nearer fire, though the reflections of
it danced on the wall and ceiling of the study.  A sharp, resinous
tang of burning was in the air.