The fighting machines

Quickly, one after the other, four of the fighting machines appeared. Monstrous tripods, higher than the tallest steeple, striding over the pine trees and smashing them, walking tripods of glittering metal. Each carried a huge funnel and I realized with horror that I'd seen this awful thing before. A fifth machine appeared on the far bank. It raised itself to full height, flourished the funnel high in the air, and the ghostly terrible heat ray struck the town. As it struck, all five fighting machines exulted, emitting deafening howls which roared like thunder: The six guns we had seen now fired simultaneously, decapitating a fighting machine. The Martian inside the hood was slain, splashed to the four winds, and the body, nothing now but an intricate device of metal, went whirling to destruction. As the other monsters advanced, people ran away blindly, the artilleryman among them, but I jumped into the water and hid until forced up to breathe. Now the guns spoke again, but this time the heat ray sent them to oblivion. With a white flash the heat ray swept across the river. Scalded, half blinded and agonized, I staggered through leaping, hissing water towards the shore. I fell in full sight of the Martians, and then soon I escaped