“The temperature when you get a ways below the surface remains at 39° winter and summer, the scientists have found,” the doctor smiled.
“It doesn’t feel more’n 29° on top,” said Bennie.
When the pictures were taken, they went around to the north side of the island, where the sides were not so steep, and taking the alpine rope, they all landed and scrambled up into the high saddle between the rear and the central mast—“the deck, this ought to be called,” they said.
When they got up in here, they found it was possible to climb still higher up the tallest mast (the rear mast), till they reached a sharp, complete crack which separated it into two parts. This crack had not been visible from the water.
“It’s a regular chimney,” Bennie exclaimed. “A chimney open at both sides. Do we go up that?”
“I don’t,” Dumplin’ answered. “I couldn’t get into it.”
“I don’t,” said his father. “I wouldn’t get into it.”
“It’s about forty feet from here to the top,” said Uncle Billy. “I know a man who climbed it. It took him an hour and fifteen minutes.”
Bennie wasn’t joking any more. He pulled himself up from the little platform where they were resting till he stood in the crack, and then he felt of the walls of smooth lava, and looked up for hand and foot holds.
“But there aren’t any holds,” he said. “Hanged if I see how anybody can climb up here.”