“Never mind about that, my lads,” cried Panton, who had been busy breaking off a bit of the stone on which Oliver had sat—a very dark time-stained blackish-brown, almost covered with some form of growth, but the fresh fracture was soft glittering, and of a silvery grey, as pure and clear as when it was thrown out of the crater as so much vesicular cindery scum.
“Yes,” said Drew, examining the fragment. “You are right. Well, I say thank you for bringing us up to see this glorious place.”
“And I too, as heartily,” said Oliver. “We must come up here regularly for the next month at least; why, there are specimens enough here to satisfy us all.”
“Quite,” said Drew, “and I propose we begin collecting to-day.”
“And I second you,” said Lane.
“And I form the opposition,” cried Panton. “Do you suppose I made all that fuss to bring you only to see this old crater?”
“Isn’t it enough?” said Oliver.
“No,” cried Panton excitedly. “This is nothing to the wonders I have to show. Now, then, this way. Come on.”