The explosions that rent and shattered this steam veil, or shattered the cloud masses above us, were at first difficult to explain. It was after we had penetrated and crossed the abyss that the Professor suggested that they were due to a partial decomposition of some part—a very, very small part—of the steam into the gases hydrogen and carbonic oxide, where coal or carbonaceous deposits existed at rare or higher heats, and that these explosive mixtures, retained somehow in the steam, undiffused, were fired by electric-lightning sparks. This theory never seemed scientific to me. But the fact of such disturbances remained, and it was owing to the momentary glimpse a terrific shock of this kind permitted us across the void, that we picked up daring enough to make the attempt to cross the horrid gap.
We were within perhaps five hundred feet of the spouting cauldron, where rain was constantly falling, crawling over rocks wet and slippery, astonished and half delighted at the luxuriant development of moss on the lips of pools or saucers of water, and noting a great rise in temperature, with that peculiar buried tumult of hissing, issuing from the earth, when this happened. There was a flash, a roar, and, as if a gigantic hand had parted the dense curtain before us, our eyes crossed the gulf, and we saw a land of greenness and of light!
Stunned, half sick, hungry, with a gnawing wretchedness of desire, it almost seemed that we had been duped by some illusion born of our weakness and the deceptive play of the illuminated mist. Huddled together in a niche of the rocks that were in places dissected by cracks, that also discharged tenuous lines of steam, we talked in whispers over the marvelous apparition. Yes, we had all seen it. There could be no mistake, but Goritz had seen more. Across the black, vomiting pit was a bridge of rock! It might have been some remaining partition, holding its place against disintegration, spared in some way for our salvation from the destructive agencies that had here ripped the crust asunder, or indeed it might have been built up from some later solidified eruption. Had he seen it?
Goritz was madly certain about that. Well, and if he had, could we use it? There are desperate stages in desperation that breed, Ajax-like, defiance of danger. The sudden realization of a world of beauty, a world of food, on the other side of the steaming pit, nerved our poor flagging bodies, and summoned an audacity of will to our minds! It was our last chance. Myths of the past in that delirious moment flocked back to my mind, which pictured guarded paradises, defended gardens of delight, treasures watched by dragons, elysiums hedged with terrors, and always, always courage won the prize, and passed the dangers. And yet there must be caution; the old refrain sounded in my ears, Be not too bold!
Goritz and Hopkins, the least impaired, reconnoitered the pass. They moved down some stepped ledges and were lost to sight. In an hour or so they returned. Their faces were lighted with hopefulness. They both believed the path was negotiable, and they both agreed that there were periodic cessations of the fiercer ebullitions from below. It was also discovered that we could not make our way to the right or left for any considerable distance. We had trailed our way to an isthmus of land, enclosed by two impassable streams, shooting in rugged wild channels. To think of crossing them was sheer madness. Goritz and Hopkins had actually advanced a little way on the bridge, straining their eyes to catch some further intimations of the delectable country we now believed would be attained were we once over this inscrutable fissure. The daylight, when the sun was highest and easterly, was now short, and in the mist-encumbered land, in the cloud-swept skies, that light was almost eclipsed. Everything contributed to our uncertainty and danger.
We made ready for the start. We consumed every scrap of food, divested ourselves of unnecessary outer clothing, which had already become insufferably warm—kamiks, nanookis, kooletah—packed our ammunition on our breasts, reversed and strapped our guns on our backs (the Professor added to his burden a pot and a fryingpan), tucked away our matches, chewed the last tea leaves our canister afforded, and with a few chocolate cakes in our pockets went down the steps,
“*** with a heart for any fate.”
I was indeed sick; exertion pained me, and a nauseating weariness threatened at moments to rob me of consciousness. The two poor dogs which had escaped the extremity of our needs, less through mercy than through revulsion, were turned loose. Yet as we went down the ledges to the brink, I saw them chasing us. Goritz roped us together again, gave a few orders as to signals, and ordered the descent.
We went a tatons, literally on all fours; Goritz first, then the Professor, then myself, then Hopkins. As we drew near to the ominous edge, and felt our way over the first steps of the stony crossing it required all my strength of will to draw my legs after my groping hands. At first it presented a tolerable pathway, flat, narrow, but sloping dangerously to either side, slippery from the constant rain that fell from the saturated air. We silently pushed on, Goritz by agreement stopping every thirty counts (seconds), and resting five. Gradually the path contracted and, in about thirty feet, became a sharp backbone over whose sides our legs dangled in the constantly steaming vault. It was warm and almost stifling at intervals and then came relief in the shape of whirling gusts of wind, which however were disconcerting, and made our precarious balance still more uncertain.
We had probably proceeded fifty feet in all, when a blackness shot through with red darts came before my eyes; I reeled slightly and dropped forward, instinctively clutching the wet rock and jerking the rope that bound me to the Professor. The Professor in turn pulled on Goritz, and our thin line halted. It was arduous work for the Professor, whose wrist was still aching.