He sat there watching them for about an hour, but far from satiated, for there was always something fresh to see, and the birds were so tame, that he often had them within a few feet of his head, some soft, round-headed creature turning itself on one side to gaze at him with its keen eye as if in wonder, before going on with its feeding, satisfied that it would not be hurt.
Then the delightful scene came to an end with the climbing birds and the foliage lit up by the horizontal rays of the sun, for, all at once, there was a deafening explosion, and, shrieking loudly, the flock took flight, while Lane sat there appalled, listening in expectation of another report, the former having evidently come from the mountain; but, as he listened, there was in place of the explosion, a loud hissing, and then a loud, heavy pattering, accompanied and followed by thud after thud, and he knew, though he could not see for the dense foliage, that a volley of heavy stones and masses of pumice had been fired into the air, to fall from various heights back to earth on the mountain slopes.
“Ah, I must go and see that,” he said to himself, as he seized his gun. “Not my department, but none the less interesting. I wish Panton was here.”
A soft, whining noise took his attention then, and, glancing beside him, he saw that the cubs which had been his companions all night were straining about, climbing over each other, and falling back, evidently wanting their morning meal.
“And I suppose I have killed their mother,” thought Lane, as he bent over and patted the two furry animals. “Poor little things! I must come back and get them, and take them with me to the ship, if I can cross the belt of mist. First of all, though, the mountain—I must go up that as far as I can climb.”
So, descending and shouldering his piece, he strode to where the ashes of his fire lay and then brought his gun down to the present, for there was a quick, rustling sound to his left, and he caught a glimpse of glossy, spotted fur, as an animal passed amongst the dense undergrowth. Then, before he had time to fire, had he felt so disposed, a huge, lithe, cat-like creature bounded on to the trunk of the tree he had just left, uttering a strange, purring cry, and disappeared in the orchids which clustered about the fork.
“Then I did not shoot the mother,” thought Lane. “So much the better.”
Then, as all was still and no danger to be apprehended there, he shouldered his gun and strode off towards the more open ground, which he reached at last, forgetful of everything but the intense desire to try and ascend the cone-shaped mountain which stood before him, capped with a dense pall of smoke and steam.
After tramping about an hour, the sight of trickling water down amongst some stones suggested to him the fact that he had not broken his fast that morning, so sitting down upon a block of stone, he brought out the remains left in his wallet and ate them, stale as they were, as he looked round him, finding that he had climbed to higher ground than he expected; but though he looked eagerly toward the part where the ship must have lain in the middle of the wave-swept plain, everything was cut off by a dull, misty appearance. Not the clearly marked band of sunny haze he had seen from low down on the level therewith, but a foggy, indistinct state of the atmosphere.
Away to his right, he feasted his eyes upon the enormous mass of stone and ash which towered up in a beautifully regular curve, with apparently nothing to hinder him from walking up the steep slope to the crater, into which he felt an uncontrollable desire to gaze.