Then the fairy-like vision became commonplace, and Oliver started back to everyday life, for Smith said gruffly,—
“Better see what’s o’clock, and come down, sir, for that there big pot’s a-going to boil over again.”
Even as he spoke there was a roar, a great gush upward of fiery fluid, and a sensation of intense heat, while the pinnacle upon which they stood literally rocked and threatened to fall.
“Quick! get down,” said Oliver, taking out the watch-like object once more, glancing at it, and then replacing it in his vest.
“Comin’ too, sir?”
“Yes, all right; five thousand nine hundred feet.”
Smith stared, but went on descending, followed by Oliver, while the glow shed upon them was for a few moments unbearable. Then the huge fountain of molten rock ceased playing, the glow scorched them no longer, and they scrambled and slid down in safety to where their friends were waiting, and commenced their descent after taking their bearings as well as they could.
“What did you make it?”
“Just over five thousand nine hundred.”
“And we’ve got nearly all that distance to go down,” said Drew. “I’m tired already.”