It was rosy twilight when we sailed over these uncanny mountains so sharply divided by cold, barren cliffs on one side and deep forests, rich valleys on the other.
Anxiously Alpha gazed downward and called my attention to the ominous rumbling, which I supposed was the roar of the ocean.
“I fear we are too late,” she murmured. “It seems we will never reach the place where the great Sheldon and Centauri are imperiling their lives tampering with the volcanic Otega.”
In vain I tried to calm her. Words made her desperate, and as the detonations increased she clasped her hands tightly in agony. The air grew dense, sultry, vibrating with electricity. All scented danger, calamity and clustered together in alarmed little groups, murmuring: “The Otega; the Otega.”
The ship slackened speed as we sighted the Otega, and her great wings fluttered as though about to lower. Upon earth all was agitation, the ocean boiled furiously, at high tide crashing over the steep cliff wall and flooding the land; people, panic-strickened, scurried in all directions. Then Centauri appeared. We knew him by his long white beard. The little crowd gathered about him, but suddenly, all with one accord, rushed to the side of the mountain, where, in a hollow, their ship rested. We could see them scrambling over the side of the vessel, working, tugging with desperation to loosen her. We lowered a little to give assistance, but the ship bounded free, the great bat wings vigorously unfurled; then shouts of distress coming from land startled us and we saw a man running, mad with terror. He reached the ship, grasping the side just as she lurched upward, jerking his body out with the shock, then banging it back with terrific force. I turned sick, covering my eyes—the man was Sheldon. My blood curdled as I thought of his awful death, expecting, of course, that he’d fallen to earth and was dashed to pieces, but Alpha whispered he was safe, that he’d clung to the vessel as he had to his theory and Centauri had dragged him from his awful position. I could see him lying on the deck. The two vessels sailed close and established communication. Alpha talked with her father, and I learned the great Otega would soon be in eruption after a quiet of six centuries. We lingered to view the phenomenon.
“I am glad the matter is settled for all time,” murmured Alpha. “Certainly the great Sheldon’s visit to Centauri has been of some benefit, his laughable theories have obtained positive results and settled forever a grave doubt to the satisfaction of every one.”
She laughed as I suggested that Sheldon, to a certain extent, had been deceived.
“He deceived himself,” she replied. “No one disputed his positive assertions, and consequently he believed all agreed with him, but every one went up to the Ocstas bent upon private investigations. Your friend was intent upon discovering the source of that body of water and delegates from four geographical-geological societies accompanied him solely to determine whether the volcano was extinct or not—all have been successful. Isn’t it strange, Virgillius,” she continued, “that water was so fresh, wholesome, beneficial to the system, yet fish could not live in it. We tried, and——”
A warning shout came from Centauri’s ship. Ours shot upward like a rocket and slanted across the sky, swift as an arrow.
A terrific explosion took place, thunder rolled from the heavens, while earth responded with tremendous detonations. The incessant roaring, sizzling noise was frightful—the majestic fury of the Otega had awakened from its long trance. Sulphurous flames played about the volcano, giving it a terrible, weird appearance, steam rose in monstrous clouds, and waves of liquid fire boiled and dashed against the cliffs overflowing the huge caldron in broad streams of molten mass deluging the earth with devastation. Ashes, rock, lava shot skyward in monster geysers of incandescent matter that gave forth prismatic lights and in stinging, serpent-like coils writhed to the sea.