Ahead, through the peephole, Edmund had descried again the flaming spires
which had so astonished us on our approach to Venus. But now their
appearance was splendid and imposing beyond words. Above them rose an arc
of pearly light which grew higher every hour. And with the arc of light
rose the flames also. At the same time they seemed to spread to the right
and the left, until they were simultaneously visible from both of the
side windows of the car. Their colors were wonderful--red, green, purple,
orange--all the hues of the prism.

"There is the old mystery again," exclaimed Edmund, "and I can no more
explain it now than I could when we first saw it on nearing the planet.
The arc of light above is natural enough; it's simply the dawn. The sun
never rises on this side of Venus, but it will rise for us because we are
approaching it, and the light is the first indication that we are getting
near enough to the border between day and night for some of the sun's
rays to be bent over the horizon by refraction. But those flames! See how
steady they are as a whole, and yet how they change color like a slowly
turning prism."

"Don't, for God's sake, run us into a conflagration," said Jack. "I'm
ready to believe anything of this topsy-turvy old planet, and I shouldn't
be surprised if the other side is all fire as this one is all frost. I
can stand these hairy beasts, but I'll be hanged if I want to be
introduced among salamanders."

"That's not real fire," said Edmund. "When we get a little nearer we can
see what it is. In the meantime I'll try to think it out."

The result of Edmund's meditations, when he announced it to us, an hour
later, awoke as much amazement in our minds as anything that had yet