There had been no explosion for several minutes, so thinking I was safe I sat down to rest. Suddenly without the slightest warning, and with the most horrible roar that I have ever heard, like a mighty geyser, the sulphur fumes shot upwards followed by a gush of fire combined with a pelting of large stones which shot out of a large hole with the impetus of a catapult. The air sang with inflammable material which sizzled as it struck the wet rocks. I tried to run, but fell and slid on my bottom ripping off the seat of my trousers. A rock hit me on my right foot which, although I did not feel much pain from it at the time, later on developed into an ailment which several times during the two following years kept me confined in bed for at least three weeks each time. In less than a few seconds I covered the distance to where Gumprecht was lying. I yelled to him to hurry down the mountain to save himself.
"Vait a minute," he yelled, "I can't breath this Gott damn schmoke."
When he got up we hurried down the mountain in quick time, stopping at the old crater where Michaelis was taking observations. That man did not return with us, but waited two hours until the explosions stopped; he then ascended to the stone pile, but no sooner had he arrived there than an explosion took place followed by such a pelting that he had to remain until dark behind some cliffs, waiting for the violence to diminish.
When we had descended to where the horses were, Prat and Savedra rejoiced upon seeing us return alive, for they had a fright on seeing me do the slide, and later both Gumprecht and I running, thinking that we were done for. This did not prevent Savedra from drinking Gumprecht's whiskey after we had left them to make the ascent. We chided them for their cowardice in not coming any farther.
"I am too young to die," was Prat's excuse. Savedra said nothing; he evidently could see no reason why he should undergo strenuous exercise besides running the risk of getting blown up, when he could see the explosions from where he was. It was hot when we had left Las Termas in the morning and I wore a summer suit of clothes and a straw hat. Near the summit of the volcano in snowy defiles where the sun never reaches it was around the zero mark which I keenly felt if I stood still a minute. When we arrived back at the hotel, the crowd gathered around us and asked us all about the trip. The Englishman and the Frenchman with whom we had quarreled started out the next day to make the ascent, but overcome with a "streak of yellow" went only as far as the end of the glacier. Their game was ping-pong.
Mountain Scenery and Waterfall at Las Trancas
When we finally left Las Termas we walked to Resinto, a distance of twenty miles, and drove to La Dehesa stopping en route a few minutes at the post house of La Quila to change horses. The road is rocky and is bordered by blackberry bushes whose vines grow to a prodigious size. The Chilean blackberry, named sarsamorra, is different from our wild blackberry in the fact that it is sweeter, has a milder flavor and in shape is wider, shorter, and rounder. When I made this trip, the bushes were bent down with the weight of this succulent fruit which was now ripe. The sarsamorra is a pest in Chile, as it springs up everywhere, and spreading over the fields is hard to stamp out. It forms natural hedges for estate boundaries and field limits.
In all this Ñuble country overcoats and thick underwear come in handy. The nights are cool in summer while in winter there is snow in the hills. I saw people in the plaza in Chillán in March, which corresponds to September in countries north of the Tropic of Cancer, wearing overcoats. Not that it was really cold enough to wear them, but it is a fad with South Americans to don overcoats upon the slightest occasion.