“Yes, my lad,” said the colonel, shading his eyes, and looking up. “The snow hides the old scar, but I should say that during some eruption the whole side of the crater fell outward, and crumbled down to here, as you say.”
“Crater?” cried Cyril.
“Yes; don’t you see that it is a volcano?”
“I did not, sir. Then those clouds up there are smoke?”
“More likely steam.”
“Steam? Those clouds?” cried Perry, gazing up. “And is this a burning mountain?”
“Yes. You will be able to say you have been on the side of a volcano,” said the colonel quietly. “Look at all this broken stone about; how glistening a great deal is, as if it had been molten. That piece, too, looks like scoria.”
“Then hadn’t we better go on at once?” cried Perry, getting up from the stone on which he was seated.
“What for? Are you afraid of an eruption?” said the colonel, with a shade of contempt in his voice.—“Feel that stone where he was sitting, Cyril; perhaps it is warm.”
“Yes, it was quite warm when I sat down upon it,” said Perry hastily. “All the stones about here are nearly hot.”