I stood staring into the pit, and my heart lightened gloriously,
even as the rising sun struck the world to fire about me with his
rays.  The pit was still in darkness; the mighty engines, so great and
wonderful in their power and complexity, so unearthly in their
tortuous forms, rose weird and vague and strange out of the shadows
towards the light.  A multitude of dogs, I could hear, fought over the
bodies that lay darkly in the depth of the pit, far below me.  Across
the pit on its farther lip, flat and vast and strange, lay the great
flying-machine with which they had been experimenting upon our denser
atmosphere when decay and death arrested them.  Death had come not a
day too soon.  At the sound of a cawing overhead I looked up at the
huge fighting-machine that would fight no more for ever, at the
tattered red shreds of flesh that dripped down upon the overturned
seats on the summit of Primrose Hill.