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 Rangi and I, the selected, the champions, the pick of our mob (Thunder, much nearer)—I guess’d we could settle the job!

..Rain, right enough! and the lightning, less frequent, more stabbing and stark.... We were deafen’d and blinded, with uproar and silence, with dazzle and dark, As onward we push’d....It was lonely, a little....Come, Rangi, keep warm! For she hung back a bit; we were nearing the heart of the storm.

Rain, like a water-spout! scouring the skin with an icy cold flood; And now in the Black we could keep to the track by the squelch of the mud. How far had we come? How long had we been—should we be, at this rate? ....If only that battering thunder would let one think straight!

Ah,....what a glitter! Right on it, right overhead, Boom! what a blast! Earth-shaking, ear-splitting, soul-stunning—Save us! how long would it last? ..Right, then my Rangi!....Confound it! Oh, stop it!....Thank Goodness, at length Peace!....And we call a man strong in the face of that Strength?