“We won’t,” Saunders replied, “we are too far up to discover anything but petrification and the Pole.”
“We are traveling upon lava beds,” Saxe. informed us, “and I believe we are in the pit of a huge crater—what misfortune if it should come to sudden eruption!”
“Ah, bosh!” sassed Saunders, “crater be blowed! we’re traveling upon rocks, petrified earth.”
“Nonsense!” bawled Saxe.
“Order, order, boys!” called Sheldon from the tanks where he was brewing quarts of coffee. “In case of necessity,” he murmured.
We were prepared for any emergency, the airpipes were stocked and heaters in good working order. I was busy putting in a new pane of glass in the damaged window, when I heard Saxe. say he saw cliffs ahead and heard a roaring sound. I heard a roaring sound also, but it was rush of blood to the head and I was attacked with a violent hemorrhage. But I soon recovered under Sheldon’s excellent treatment, which was smoking hot coffee. My three comrades suffered intensely from nausea, but each remained at his post. Saxe. guiding the Propellier, Saunders ever alert for his star, and Sheldon at the coffee stand serving out regular instalments, with the encouraging words: “It’s the best and only stimulant we can take.”
Though the air valves were opened wide, creating a slight draught, it seemed heavy with drugs. Drowsiness was overpowering, and though sleep meant death the eye-ball ached with weariness, yet we managed to keep each other awake, but eventually endured a siege of suffocation that was agonizing in the futile attempt to take a long breath, the gurgling effort leaving a heavy, suppressed pain in the lungs. We were tortured with every stage of suffocation except the last one—death. There was a thin streak of life in the atmosphere. It took an hour to pass the danger zone, yet not once did we think of turning back.
“Forward! forward!” always was the cry.
“We’re too expert, it’s got to be stronger to swamp us,” Saxe. declared, and Sheldon has since expressed great faith in “Determination, grim determination.” And during the trying time, possibly for the encouragement of everybody, including themselves, both aired very grand, lofty ideas about “will-vitality,” etc. I listened admiringly, but gradually lost interest, and in spite of heroic efforts succumbed to a stupor of weariness. I was dulled, not unconscious, and distinctly saw Saxe., for all his high-faluting “will-vitality,” turn livid as he slid from his seat. He was gasping, and limply moved his arms for assistance. For the life of me I could not move, seemed tied as in a nightmare. Sheldon flung the doors and windows wide, then rushed to Saxe.’s assistance, who had fainted for the first time in his life. The icy blast that swept through the car brushed the cobwebs from my brain and thoroughly chilled the treacherous lethargy from us all. But it took some time to recover from that “high air pressure,” and we had considerable trouble with Saxe., who took to his bunk.
Saunders’s predictions were correct, only reversed. He declared the atmosphere of the unknown circle to be charged with deadly gases (no atmosphere), but up to the danger line we would encounter brisk, icy winds. For upward of an hour we faced the “no atmosphere” problem, but within the Pole circle brisk, icy breezes blew life to us—no one dared mention the fact to Saunders.