Zöega and I worked hard cutting and carrying the sods for nearly half an hour, by which time we had a large pile on the edge of the orifice. Zöega said there was enough. I insisted on getting more. “Let us give him a dose that he won’t forget.” “Oh, sir, nobody ever puts more than that in; it is quite enough.” “No; I mean to make him deadly sick. Come on, Zöega.” And at it we went again, cutting the sod, and carrying it over and piling it up in a great heap by the hole. When we had about a ton all ready, I said to Zöega, “Now, Zöega, fire away, and I’ll stand here and see how it works.” Then Zöega pushed it all over, and it went slapping and dashing down into the steaming shaft. For a little while it whirled about, and surged, and boiled, and tumbled over and over in the depths of the churn with a hollow, swashing noise terribly ominous of what was to come. I peeped over the edge to try if I could detect the first symptoms of the approaching eruption. Zöega walked quietly away about twenty steps, saying he preferred not to be too close. There was a sudden growl and a rumble, a terrible plunging about and swashing of the sods below, and fierce, whirling clouds of steam flew up, almost blinding me as they passed.
“Sir,” said Zöega, gravely, “you had better stand away. It comes up very suddenly when it once starts.”
“Don’t be afraid, Zöega; I’ll keep a sharp look-out for it. You may depend there’s not a Geyser in Iceland can catch me when I make a break.”
“Very well, sir; but I’d advise you to be careful.”
Notwithstanding this good counsel, I could not resist the fascination of looking in. There was another tremendous commotion going on—a roar, a whirling over of the sods, and clouds of steam flying up. This time I ran back a few steps. But it was a false alarm. Nothing came of it. The heaving mass seemed to be producing the desired effect, however. The Strokhr was evidently getting very sick. I looked over once more. All below was a rumbling, tumbling black mass, dashing over and over against the sides of the churn. Soon a threatening roar not to be mistaken startled me. “Look out, sir!” shouted Zöega; “look out!” Unlike the Frenchman who looked out when he should have looked in, I unconsciously looked in when I should have looked out. With a suddenness that astonished me, up shot the seething mass almost in my face. One galvanic jump—an involuntary shout of triumph—and I was rolling heels over head on the crust of earth about ten feet off, the hot water and clumps of sod tumbling down about me in every direction. Another scramble brought me to my feet, of which I made such good use that I was forty yards beyond Zöega before I knew distinctly what had happened. The poor fellow came running toward me in great consternation.
“Are you hurt, sir? I hope you’re not hurt!” he cried, in accents of great concern.
“Hurt!” I answered. “Didn’t you see me rolling over on the ground laughing at it? Why, Zöega, I never saw any thing so absurd as that in my life; any decent Geyser would have given at least an hour’s notice. This miserable little wretch went off half cocked. I was just laughing to think how sick we made him all of a sudden!”
“Oh, that was it, sir! I thought you were badly hurt.”
“Not a bit of it. You never saw a man who had suffered serious bodily injury run and jump with joy, and roll with laughter as I did.”
“No, sir, never, now that I come to think of it.”