To watch my two companions and myself set out along the clay footpath toward the wall, one might have thought that we were athletes training for a race. But if we moved rapidly, we were in no way exceptional, for there were scores who easily kept pace with us. For many minutes we hastened parallel to the Salty River. We passed the long, white rapids; we passed the spot where the gigantic jet of water shot thundering out of the pipe-like valve; we saw the wall itself sloping down before us, and near the wall we could make out a long, black mass which ultimately resolved itself into a multitude of humans. This multitude, as we drew near, showed itself to be in a wildly agitated condition. Men and women were pacing frantically to and fro, swarming and squirming like worms or ants; some were gesticulating vehemently, some speaking in high-pitched tones audible from afar, some merely standing petrified like men dealt a blow too great to bear. Yet, as we took our places among them, we could observe nothing that gave cause for alarm. To our right loomed the elongated, steely gray valve, a great tube as high as a three-story building, which narrowed as it approached the wall, and passed through it on a level with the ground. And just before us sloped the wall itself, now roped off so that we could not come within a stone’s throw, but apparently still the same smooth, dark greenish barrier I had viewed months before. No sign of any break or crack was visible, and it was almost with disappointment that I noticed how flawless it seemed. But while I stood there watching I heard a faint swishing sound, like the lapping of sea-waves against the rocks. I may have been mistaken, for amid the chattering and shouting of the mob and the distant roaring of waters from the valve, it was difficult to be sure just what one heard. But Gavison and Xanocles seemed to note that same ominous noise, and both paused to listen, while the anxious expression on their faces did not relieve my misgivings. “It’s the water working through the inner layers of the glass,” I thought I heard Xanocles remark; but here again I could not be sure, for even as he spoke a tumult of shouts burst forth, and I turned in sudden fright to see what was the matter. This time I did not have long to wait. On one of the great roof-supporting stone columns a searchlight had been mounted; and I observed that it was slowly swinging round, casting a piercing illumination upon the wall from a bright, yellow eye glaring like the headlight of a locomotive. For a moment it shook and wavered as if it could not find a focus; then it became rigid and still, and a circle of the wall, many yards across, stood out in brilliant relief.