“That is Matterplay,” said the woman, pointing her finger toward some low land on the horizon, which seemed to be even farther off than Wombflash.
“I wonder how Digrung passed over,” meditated Maskull.
Not far away, in a hollow enclosed by a circle of little hills, they saw a small, circular lake, not more than half a mile in diameter. The sunset colors of the sky were reflected in its waters.
“That must be Irontick,” remarked Gleameil.
“What is that?”
“I have heard that it’s the instrument Earthrid plays on.”
“We are getting close,” responded he. “Let us go and investigate.”
When they drew nearer, they observed that a man was reclining on the farther side, in an attitude of sleep.
“If that’s not the man himself, who can it be?” said Maskull. “Let’s get across the water, if it will bear us; it will save time.”
He now assumed the lead, and took running strides down the slope which bounded the lake on that side. Gleameil followed him with greater dignity, keeping her eyes fixed on the recumbent man as if fascinated. When Maskull reached the water’s edge, he tried it with one foot, to discover if it would carry his weight. Something unusual in its appearance led him to have doubts. It was a tranquil, dark, and beautifully reflecting sheet of water; it resembled a mirror of liquid metal. Finding that it would bear him, and that nothing happened, he placed his second foot on its surface. Instantly he sustained a violent shock throughout his body, as from a powerful electric current; and he was hurled in a tumbled heap back on to the bank.