Bowles scrambled nimbly along the narrow and dangerous pathway, which, having traversed it so often, now had no terrors for any of them, and speedily joined the others.
“Now,” said Lance, “I will count three, and then we will all shout together, ‘Hillo!’ One, two, three—Hillo!”
The cry went pealing away right and left of them along the dark gallery, the echoes taking it up and tossing it wildly from side to side, up and down, until it seemed as though every rock in the vast cavern had found a voice with which to mock them; but no answering cry came from below.
“There is no one there,” said Lance. “Indeed there can be no one there; nobody has been missed, and—”
“Hark! what was that?”
A long-drawn sobbing sigh, such as a child will utter after it has cried itself to sleep, but very much louder; and immediately afterwards a gust of hot air, which brought with it a distinct odour of sulphur, swept past them down the gallery.
“God of mercy! can it be possible?” ejaculated Lance. “Yes, it must be. Fly for your lives; we may not have a moment to lose.”
“What is it?” gasped Captain Staunton, as the three started at a run up the gallery in the direction of the great cavern.
“A volcano,” answered Lance. “There are subterranean fires in activity at no great depth beneath our feet, and they may break into open eruption at any moment.”
This was enough; his companions wanted to hear no more. The few words they had already heard lent wings to their feet, and in an incredibly short time they found themselves, panting and exhausted with their unwonted exertions, once more in the open air.