Staggering to my feet, I glared about me, taking in the picture with all its ghastly details, the Pole and its flags, the cairn, the Kawa, every block and halyard of which was etched on this field of flame. How insignificant it all seemed.
The world had finished its trick; it was as a tiny bead, cast away by the Creator, a cinder in the eye of God!
Suddenly the flames turned incandescently white, rushed toward me and, on an overwhelming wave of siren wailing, I was swept away, billions of miles beyond the Pole-star, to Eternity....
Ikik was rubbing my forehead with a cool tundra sponge and her face above me was that of an angel.
"Did you see?" she asked. "It was beautiful."
The Eskimos were discussing the display critically.
"Too green," said Makuik. "No good. Cold come."
Peering through the darkness I saw the dim outline of the Kawa. The Pole stood intact. Nothing was harmed, nothing singed.