I'll never forget my first impressions of Caspak as I circled in,
high over the surrounding cliffs. From the plane I looked down
through a mist upon the blurred landscape beneath me. The hot,
humid atmosphere of Caspak condenses as it is fanned by the cold
Antarctic air-currents which sweep across the crater's top, sending
a tenuous ribbon of vapor far out across the Pacific. Through this
the picture gave one the suggestion of a colossal impressionistic
canvas in greens and browns and scarlets and yellows surrounding
the deep blue of the inland sea--just blobs of color taking form
through the tumbling mist.

I dived close to the cliffs and skirted them for several miles
without finding the least indication of a suitable landing-place;
and then I swung back at a lower level, looking for a clearing close
to the bottom of the mighty escarpment; but I could find none of
sufficient area to insure safety. I was flying pretty low by this
time, not only looking for landing places but watching the myriad
life beneath me. I was down pretty well toward the south end
of the island, where an arm of the lake reaches far inland, and I
could see the surface of the water literally black with creatures
of some sort. I was too far up to recognize individuals, but the
general impression was of a vast army of amphibious monsters. The
land was almost equally alive with crawling, leaping, running,
flying things. It was one of the latter which nearly did for me
while my attention was fixed upon the weird scene below.

The first intimation I had of it was the sudden blotting out of
the sunlight from above, and as I glanced quickly up, I saw a most
terrific creature swooping down upon me. It must have been fully