The crystal mirror presently became illumined. The scene was the darkness of night; stars reflected moonlight from a moon just outside the line of vision. Below--a thousand feet, perhaps--a vague palm-dotted landscape was sliding into view. To the watchers, the illusion was like flying through the night, looking downward. "I shall light the searchlights," Fahn said. A broad circle of blue-white illumination fell upon the shifting land. Across it, the palms of the island were moving backward. The viewpoint of the whole scene was unsteady. The horizon bobbed up and down, like the horizon viewed from a plunging ship. The moon showed momentarily, them swung sidewise out of sight. Soon the channel appeared; the dark mountains were coming nearer; they tilted downward, almost out of sight, as the lens mounted an incline to pass above them. "Can we find where the plane fell?" Loto asked anxiously. Fahn did not answer at once. At last he said: "It will be difficult. It may have fallen behind the mountains, or into them. I do not know." In the mirror, the shifting viewpoint presently showed the mountains from above; the searchlight circle was sweeping across a tumbled land of crags, plateaus and ravines--a white band of snow lying thick on the higher peaks. The lens was circling now; the turning, swaying viewpoint made the watchers dizzy. Finally they saw it--a broken plane lying on its crumbled wing. The searchlight clung to it; the lens lowered until the image of the plane seemed more than a hundred feet below. "_Toroh's plane!_" Rogers exclaimed. There were figures moving about the plane, men and dogs. The men were dragging some apparatus from it, loading it onto a sled. One of the men was Toroh! The viewpoint was close enough now to distinguish him--_alive!_ But the flying lens had descended too close; the Noths were staring upward. A flash mounted from below; the crystal mirror turned a blinding white--then went black. Toroh's thunderbolt had struck the flying lens and destroyed it. * * * * * George and Dee gazed from their hovering plane at the empty surface of the level rock face below them. Somewhere in time Azeela was lying there, unconscious, killed perhaps; the thought messages from her were stilled. Had Toroh gone on? Or had he stopped to try and find her? They were anxious moments for George and Dee--moments that by George's watch stretched into an hour or more. They were both at the point of exhaustion. They had eaten a little--the plane was provisioned--but they had not slept throughout the trip. George made a close calculation. He knew the time-speed of Toroh's plane; he could estimate closely what Toroh's dials must have read at the instant Azeela jumped.