As if by magic the air became cooler, the boat rocked less violently, there was but a slight rumbling to be heard, but in its place a sizzing, as if gas was being forced through an open pipe.
“What does it mean?” thought Max. “The end has come. Good-by, world—good-by.”
CHAPTER XV.
IN THE VOLCANO’S MOUTH.
But gradually a belief stole into the American’s mind that the end was not yet.
The water had become calm.
Max, while keeping his right hand firm on the side of the boat, gradually threw off the covering from his head.
A sight met his gaze which caused him to shiver with fear.
Above his head he could see the clear, blue Oriental sky and the bright, twinkling stars.
A shaft, yet not regularly made, but one excavated by volcanic action, rose above him.
It seemed hundreds of feet to the top.