“You ought to have worn a diving suit, Nimbus,” he exclaimed between his outbursts of laughter.
“Oh, g’way now, young cap’n. You oughter be ’shamed makin’ fun er ole Nim when he in a heap er trouble. I tell you, sah, dis cruisin’ on dry lan’ ’s dangersome work, an’ ef ebber ole Nim git back to salt-water he stick to um.”
As a precaution against further mishaps of this nature, they lashed him fast to his pony after the manner of a pack, and once more the procession was got under way.
That afternoon they passed through a wonderful gorge known as the Almannajau, with sides of shining black lava rising as sheer and regular as though it had been hewn out by giants. Beyond it lay the valley of Thingvalla, showing scattered patches of fresh green grass upon which sheep were grazing. In it stood a small church, and the house, or rather cluster of huts, in which dwelt the pastor of Thingvalla and his numerous family.
They camped for the night beside the church, though the hospitable pastor begged them to consider his dwelling as theirs for as long as they chose to use it, and urged them at least to sleep in his Bädstove, or guest-chamber. One breath of the foul, suffocating air of the interior of the house was enough for Lord Seabright, and to the great relief of his young companion, he courteously declined in very good Latin the proffered hospitality.
As fuel was one of the scarcest articles in that vicinity, they accepted a pot of coffee from the pastor’s wife, and made their dinner from it and what cold provisions they had brought along. They tried to eat some of the bowl of skeyer, or cheese curds, which the good man pressed upon them; but it was so rank that they were unable to swallow a single mouthful. It was thereupon turned over to Gierssen, who found no difficulty in eating the whole bowlful. In return for these favors, Lord Seabright presented the pastor with several tins of meat, with which he was greatly pleased, and for which he expressed thanks in the choicest Latin.
The next morning, after poor Nimbus, stiff, aching in every joint, and groaning at the hard fate that had dragged him thus far away from the sea, had been lashed firmly to his pony, an early start was made. For a few miles the riding was comparatively smooth, and then the road plunged into the most awful country ever traversed by men and horses. It became an indistinct trail only marked by occasional piles of stones, and the savage region through which it led was torn and rent to pieces as though it had been the battle-ground of demons. It was inconceivably blasted, scorched, and strewn with chaotic masses of lava. It was traversed in every direction by deep chasms, between which the trail, often but a few feet wide, wound its perilous way, and into which a single misstep would have hurled horse and rider, to be lost beyond recovery. Numerous rushing torrents were forded, and in one foaming river, the Bruara, a bottomless fissure cleft in the middle of its channel was crossed on a bridge of planks that were actually laid below the surface of the water and were not seen until they were reached.
The frightful nature of this journey at first drew from poor Nimbus groans, prayers, and entreaties to be left where he was and not taken any farther into what he termed “de home ob ole Satan hissef.” Finally he closed his eyes, and passively allowed himself to be borne onward to what he believed was certain destruction.
It was a tedious day’s ride; but after passing the Bruara the country became somewhat better, and showed occasional little green valleys, in one of which the travellers rested for an hour and ate their luncheon. Here and there lonely huts were passed, and some flocks and herds were seen, as well as an occasional human being in the distance. Finally they reached the world-famed valley of the geysers, where, within a space of half a mile, some forty or fifty springs of all sizes and shapes boiled, bubbled, and sent up clouds of steam and sulphurous vapors.
Of them all, the two best worth seeing are the Great Geyser and the Strokhr, or churn. The latter can be made to go off, but the former only displays his superb fountains of boiling water when it pleases him to do so. Often tourists have waited near him for days, and then been compelled to leave without having seen an eruption.