Through the center of the rift, or ravine, as it might properly be called, a stream of water flowed, and this glittered and flashed in all the colors of the rainbow as the lurid streaks of flame belched over it.
On either side the walls sloped down in the form of a very steep hill, passing directly over the portholes from which the puffs of flame came.
“So that’s what you call the Devil’s Kingdom, is it?” remarked the professor, addressing Jones.
“Yes; that is the name Señor de Amilo gave it,” was the reply.
“Well, I’ll be ding-wizzened, if it ain’t a good name for it!” exclaimed Haypole, shrugging his shoulders. “Now, if ther old boy was ter come out of one of them streams of fire, an’ walk up an’ down ther middle of that stream, with a pitchfork over his shoulder, ther scene would be complete.”
“Great Scott!” cried Dick and Leo in a breath; “there he is, now!”
Ejaculations of surprise went up from all hands, as with distended eyes they saw a log go shooting down the stream with a figure clinging to it.
“That’s Philander Owens, or I’m a sinner!” exclaimed the Yankee.
“That’s so,” said Leo, taking a step forward to get a better view of the startling scene.
As he did so he stepped upon a small stone, which, rolling under his foot, caused him to slip and lose his balance.