Zöga’s mode of cooking was simple, a fine large trout, with head and tail tied together, was fastened to one end of a string, and a big stone to the other; the fish was plumped into the water and the stone left outside near the edge to moor it; so with tins of preserved meats, soups, &c. They required to be immersed for about twenty minutes. With these, a plentiful supply of bread, biscuit and cheese, and the addition of a pailful of milk from the farm, we fared sumptuously; dining al-fresco, in broad daylight and the thermometer indicating 58°, although it was near midnight.
Several loud reports, rumblings, noises, and minor troublings of the water, again brought us to the side of the great Geyser, in expectation of a grand eruption, but these came to nothing, and again we were disappointed.
The tent was small; three of our companions crept in and lay down, leaving a place for me to follow. Professor Chadbourne, fearing he might miss an eruption, would not leave the ground, although he had been offered quarters at the farm; but, selecting a warm ledge of rock immediately under the Geyser, on the north side, lay down to sleep, wrapt up in my storm-coat.
All had now retired but Mr. Murray who accompanied me to the hill behind, from which we obtained a bird’s-eye view of the plain, with the river meandering through it, and of the numerous springs in the corner immediately below us.
The sun in the north did little more than dip and skim along a little way below the horizon; so that between twelve and one o’clock A.M. it was lighter than on a southern cloudy day at noon; while the whole atmosphere, in the light “dim,” exhibited a northern depth, transparency, and calm spiritual purity, surpassing the loveliest of our summer twilights. Those who love Dante will perhaps realize the impression it produced on our minds, when we say, that, although it was too light for any stars to be visible, the ethereal beauty of the sky suggested Beatrice. Returning to the tent before one o’clock, Mr. Murray ensconced himself comfortably outside, in the lee of it; and I crept in, spread my plaid and lay down without disturbing any one, although the four of us inside were packed together as closely as sardines.
After Mr. Murray had bade me good night through the canvas, hearing the harsh croak of the raven, and the eerie whistle of the plover, I, too, quickly fell asleep, and dreamt a queer disjointed jumble of Scandinavian myths new and old, of which I only remembered, Odin’s Raven flapping its wings and leading me to Rabna Floki; seeing that worthy thrash Thor, after having eaten his hammer; and Loki kindling Midgard with fire from the Serpent’s eyes; the winds, all the while, sighing a requiem for Baldur, through Yggdrasill the ash tree of existence. The rocks were being hurled about by the Jötuns, who in the midst of their conflict opened a space and respectfully stood aside, to allow Professor Chadbourne to approach me. Hearing myself called upon by name, I suddenly woke up, and saw my friend, in front of the tent, beckoning to me in a state of great excitement.
Subterranean noises like thunder were waxing louder and louder; each earth-shock accompanied by a tremor of the ground, more or less violent, but quite unmistakeable. Bells of water in quick succession were rising from the basin and falling again, ever increasing in size, till a large one burst; and then jets of water, in successive spurts, rushed up in sheafs from the tube; at first about 10 feet, then the height was 15, 20, 30, 50 feet and so on, each effort surpassing the preceding, till it attained the height of 200 feet. The fountain did not fall down between each jet, but, nearly holding the elevation once gained, the whole grew up bodily by a series of jerks each higher than the last. Dense clouds of steam enveloped the whole, and only afforded occasional glimpses of the columns of water from the leeward side. White vapour also spread out above the fountain, rolling away in vast curling volumes, which, condensing in the air, came down like heavy dew. Tremendous sounds were continuously heard, like the roaring of an angry sea, broken in upon by the near discharge of minute guns. It is at last, what we longed to behold, a grand eruption of the great Geyser.
Professor Chadbourne, who came running to the tent to rouse me, had been sleeping for warmth on a ledge immediately under the basin; and, when wakened by the loud noises, two streams of boiling water were running down the mound in miniature cascades on either side of him.
The vast body of water from the central pipe continued jetting up, till, as I have said, it attained the height of 200 feet, falling down again into the basin which was brimful to overflowing. The subterranean rumbling sounds and reports, accompanied with vibration of the ground, were fearful. Jets of water rushed up, in sheaf, with a continuous noise, such as would be produced by 500 rockets discharged into the air at the same instant.
Even the beautiful clouds of steam which robed the Geyser were regarded by us with an indescribable feeling of mysterious awe and wonder, as if we had actually discovered the fabled magic vapour, from which the eastern Ufret, or any other vision, might arise; while the sharp tinkling plash of the descending water could, at times, be heard amidst the loud hissing, roaring, booming and confused Babel of all unearthly sounds. The eruptive forces having now expended themselves for the time, the fountain gradually subsided in the same manner, though more speedily than it had risen. The whole terrific spectacle lasted about twenty minutes. We were singularly fortunate, as, from what we were told, few eruptions of late have lasted more than four or five minutes, or attained half the height of this which we had just witnessed.