“All plain enough, as far as I can judge, my lads. That dark part in the most wooded district is an old volcano, and this that we are on seems to be quite new and active. I should say this island has been quiescent for hundreds of years before it burst out into eruption, and sent up this great pile of rock and ashes. Now then, what next?”
“Back to the tent before we are overtaken by the darkness,” said Drew.
“Can we do it?” said Oliver.
“We’re going to try. Now, then, all down-hill over the soft ash, I daresay we shall be able to slide part of the way.”
“No,” cried Oliver, emphatically, “it must be fair walking. If we start a slide of ashes and cinders, how are we to stop when we come near one of the crevasses?”
“Or to avoid being buried?” said Drew, “Steady work is the thing.”
He had hardly spoken these words when, as if resenting their presence, a roar like thunder came from the crater, and a huge cloud shot up into the clear sky, to curve over like a tree, and as they turned and fled once more, a rain of ashes commenced falling. The darkness of which they had had so terrible an experience, threatened to shut them in high up on that mountain slope, while at any moment in their retreat they were liable to come upon one of the openings that ran deep down into the volcano’s fiery core.