The outer line of cliffs bent and swayed as though shaken by a giant hand, and, amid all this fearful confusion, rang the thunderous reports from the crater, deafening and terrible.
Crash succeeded crash, explosion followed explosion, and the waters of the lake, lashed to fury, once more roared over the helpless Seal.
For the second time since her arrival in this gloomy lake the vessel was submerged.
When the waters again receded the din of the eruption had ceased, but the brooding silence—pregnant with sinister meaning—which had followed, was almost worse than the volcanic outbreak.
The character of the surrounding cliffs was altogether changed.
Where the canyon had been a steaming wall of rock towered, its summit lost to sight in the overhanging veil of smoke, so that there was now no possible means of escape to the sea!
The watchers gazed with despairing eyes upon this fresh misfortune.
It was the last straw.
“Wal, I guess that fixes us,” the Yankee snapped; “unless there happens to be a miracle knockin’ around, this yer outfit’s on its last legs.”
His words sent a shiver through his comrades. Knowing Haverly as they did, knowing the indomitable spirit of the man, the words sounded as their death-warrant.