Chapter 19

CHAPTER XIX.

GEOLOGICAL STUDIES IN SITU

Next day, Tuesday, June 30, at 6 a.m., the descent began again.

We were still following the gallery of lava, a real naturalstaircase, and as gently sloping as those inclined planes which insome old houses are still found instead of flights of steps. And sowe went on until 12.17, the, precise moment when we overtook Hans,who had stopped.

"Ah! here we are," exclaimed my uncle, "at the very end of thechimney."

I looked around me. We were standing at the intersection of tworoads, both dark and narrow. Which were we to take? This was adifficulty.

Still my uncle refused to admit an appearance of hesitation, eitherbefore me or the guide; he pointed out the Eastern tunnel, and wewere soon all three in it.

Besides there would have been interminable hesitation before thischoice of roads; for since there was no indication whatever to guideour choice, we were obliged to trust to chance.

The slope of this gallery was scarcely perceptible, and its sectionsvery unequal. Sometimes we passed a series of arches succeeding eachother like the majestic arcades of a gothic cathedral. Here thearchitects of the middle ages might have found studies for every formof the sacred art which sprang from the development of the pointedarch. A mile farther we had to bow or heads under corniced ellipticarches in the romanesque style; and massive pillars standing out fromthe wall bent under the spring of the vault that rested heavily uponthem. In other places this magnificence gave way to narrow channelsbetween low structures which looked like beaver's huts, and we had tocreep along through extremely narrow passages.

The heat was perfectly bearable. Involuntarily I began to think ofits heat when the lava thrown out by Snæfell was boiling and workingthrough this now silent road. I imagined the torrents of fire hurledback at every angle in the gallery, and the accumulation of intenselyheated vapours in the midst of this confined channel.

I only hope, thought I, that this so-called extinct volcano won'ttake a fancy in his old age to begin his sports again!

I abstained from communicating these fears to Professor Liedenbrock.He would never have understood them at all. He had but one idea -forward! He walked, he slid, he scrambled, he tumbled, with apersistency which one could not but admire.

By six in the evening, after a not very fatiguing walk, we had gonetwo leagues south, but scarcely a quarter of a mile down.

My uncle said it was time to go to sleep. We ate without talking, andwent to sleep without reflection.

Our arrangements for the night were very simple; a railway rug each,into which we rolled ourselves, was our sole covering. We had neithercold nor intrusive visits to fear. Travellers who penetrate into thewilds of central Africa, and into the pathless forests of the NewWorld,