I could see very little through the whirling windows. They flashed faster. Presently they were all merged in a band of light--a horizontal, circular band like a slot of continuous window. The light had intensified; it showed the water, rushing upward now. And then the pressure went on. I saw Entt swing the lever; I heard the beat of some new mechanism. It was presently as though within the globe this air I was breathing went under increasing pressure. Yet I knew now it was not exactly that. A changing of the air. A mechanism taking out, absorbing the air of my world, and substituting something else, a new, a different air. The atmosphere of this other realm to which we were going. A greater pressure, undoubtedly, but the change was far more than that. I cannot describe it scientifically. There was no one ever to tell me the technical difference. But I recall now how I felt, there in that globe as we descended. An oppression. It seemed as though a band were compressing my chest. I could not breathe properly; I began panting. My head soon was roaring, my forehead cold with dank moisture. There was a queer odor--the odor of wet, clammy earth, a smell like a wet cave far underground. I struggled for breath; a nausea was upon me. Once I thought my senses were fading and called, “Arturo!” He came running. I was gripping the latticed metal seat. He touched me; appraised me with his gaze. “You’re all right, Jeff. Fearful at first, isn’t it? You’ll be all right after awhile.” I smiled weakly. “Yes, I--hope so.” Above the roaring in my ears it seemed that my voice, and Arturo’s, had a different sound. A heavy, muffled sound. “You’re all right, Jeff, we’ve got it on full now. You’ll feel better presently.” * * * * * He left me. I sat gasping, but after a time the nausea passed; my head cleared a trifle; the roaring in my ears began to abate. I found I could still breathe, but it was an effort. The muscles of my diaphragm were tired now with the strain of it. There was a fluid quality to this air, I took it into my lungs and flung it out with a panting, gasping exhalation. It burned me inside, and my skin was burning; tingling, prickling, as though with a thousand tiny needles. But I grew used to it--or perhaps all the sensations were passing. Another long interval. I got to my feet, with a strange sense of lightness. I moved my arm with a gesture; I could feel the air pressing it. Upon sudden impulse I swung my arm with a swimming stroke; it slewed me around and I nearly fell. “Jeff! Sit down!” Arturo was regarding me. “Sit down!”