“Come home,” cried the Psammead; “that’s the last, I know it is! That’s the last—over there.” It pointed with a claw that trembled.
“Oh, come!” cried Jane, holding up the Amulet.
“I will see the end of the dream,” cried the learned gentleman.
“You’ll never see anything else if you do,” said Cyril.
“Oh, Jimmy!” appealed Anthea. “I’ll never bring you out again!”
“You’ll never have the chance if you don’t go soon,” said the Psammead.
“I will see the end of the dream,” said the learned gentleman obstinately.
The hills around were black with people fleeing from the villages to the mountains. And even as they fled thin smoke broke from the great white peak, and then a faint flash of flame. Then the volcano began to throw up its mysterious fiery inside parts. The earth trembled; ashes and sulphur showered down; a rain of fine pumice-stone fell like snow on all the dry land. The elephants from the forest rushed up towards the peaks; great lizards thirty yards long broke from the mountain pools and rushed down towards the sea. The snows melted and rushed down, first in avalanches, then in roaring torrents. Great rocks cast up by the volcano fell splashing in the sea miles away.
“Oh, this is horrible!” cried Anthea. “Come home, come home!”
“The end of the dream,” gasped the learned gentleman.