One morning, or rather just as the explorers had risen, for it was the latter part of the Antarctic night of six long months, Barney spied a strange scene ahead.
Mighty mountain ranges showed, rising to fearful heights, and all were devoid of ice or snow.
Indeed, several of them appeared to be active volcanoes.
At once the Celt gave the alarm.
Everybody piled on deck, and Professor Gaston seemed the most excited of any.
“Hurrah!” he cried. “At last we have reached the South Pole. In place of an open sea as in the Arctic, we have mighty volcanic mountains.”
The Dart rapidly neared the mountain range. And as it did so, beyond them was revealed a wonderful sight.
As far as the eye could reach all was a fertile valley of green. Indeed, small lakes dotted this region, and there were rivers and forests.
“The Polar country!” cried Gaston, with excitement. “Surely it is a wonderful discovery. Is it inhabited?”
The airship slowly sailed over the mountain peaks. Suddenly Gaston pointed to a tall one and declared.