And with that incandescence came a sound, the first sound that had reached us from without since we left the earth, a hissing and rustling, the stormy trailing of the aerial garment of the advancing day.  And with the coming of the sound and the light the sphere lurched, and blinded and dazzled we staggered helplessly against each other.  It lurched again, and the hissing grew louder.  I had shut my eyes perforce, I was making clumsy efforts to cover my head with my blanket, and this second lurch sent me helplessly off my feet.  I fell against the bale, and opening my eyes had a momentary glimpse of the air just outside our glass.  It was running—­it was boiling—­like snow into which a white-hot rod is thrust.  What had been solid air had suddenly at the touch of the sun become a paste, a mud, a slushy liquefaction, that hissed and bubbled into gas.

There came a still more violent whirl of the sphere and we had clutched one another.  In another moment we were spun about again.  Round we went and over, and then I was on all fours.  The lunar dawn had hold of us.  It meant to show us little men what the moon could do with us.

I caught a second glimpse of things without, puffs of vapour, half liquid slush, excavated, sliding, falling, sliding.  We dropped into darkness.  I went down with Cavor’s knees in my chest.  Then he seemed to fly away from me, and for a moment I lay with all the breath out of my body staring upward.  A toppling crag of the melting stuff had splashed over us, buried us, and now it thinned and boiled off us.  I saw the bubbles dancing on the glass above.  I heard Cavor exclaiming feebly.

Then some huge landslip in the thawing air had caught us, and spluttering expostulation, we began to roll down a slope, rolling faster and faster, leaping crevasses and rebounding from banks, faster and faster, westward into the white-hot boiling tumult of the lunar day.

Clutching at one another we spun about, pitched this way and that, our bale of packages leaping at us, pounding at us.  We collided, we gripped, we were torn asunder—­our heads met, and the whole universe burst into fiery darts and stars!  On the earth we should have smashed one another a dozen times, but on the moon, luckily for us, our weight was only one-sixth of what it is terrestrially, and we fell very mercifully.  I recall a sensation of utter sickness, a feeling as if my brain were upside down within my skull, and then—­

Something was at work upon my face, some thin feelers worried my ears.  Then I discovered the brilliance of the landscape around was mitigated by blue spectacles.  Cavor bent over me, and I saw his face upside down, his eyes also protected by tinted goggles.  His breath came irregularly, and his lip was bleeding from a bruise.  “Better?” he said, wiping the blood with the back of his hand.

Everything seemed swaying for a space, but that was simply my giddiness.  I perceived that he had closed some of the shutters in the outer sphere to save me—­from the direct blaze of the sun.  I was aware that everything about us was very brilliant.