ree, and the
only effect was to make Panton look magnified, so that twenty yards
farther on he had grown as it were into a giant.

Oliver looked back and saw that those who followed had the same aspect.

"Don't see any rift or chasm," said Panton; "but come cautiously, for
the ground feels soft and spongy."

His voice sounded distant and strange to Oliver, who said loudly,--

"Is it bog, or are we getting on volcanic soil? I say, take care, the
ground's quite hot here." For he was conscious now of a peculiar
reeking as of steam, but his voice sounded as if it had been thrown back
in his face, and, growing slightly uneasy, he turned round and called to
those behind him,--"Take care how you come."

He stopped short, for there was no one in sight, and, turning sharply,
the dim, giant-like figure which had represented Panton was invisible.

"Hi! Panton, where are you?" he cried, in doubt now whether he had
turned completely round, and in his excitement he made a fresh step or
two, then, feeling that he might have gone wrong, he tried to return,
but only to become confused as he was conscious of the heat growing
stifling, of a strange ringing in his ears, and either of a peculiar
dimness of vision or the sudden thickening of the mist.

Then, with his heart beating heavily, he tried to raise his voice as he
shouted with all his might,--

"Panton!--Drew! Where are you?"

There was a low hissing sound apparently rising from somewhere by his
feet, otherwise all was silent as the grave.

CHAPTER NINE.

BEYOND THE CURTAIN.

Oliver Lane's sensations were for the moment horrible. He knew now that
the steamy vapour into which they had penetrated must be full of gas
perilous to human life--that the emanations from the volcanic soil were
asphyxiating, and he completely lost his head, and tottered feebly here
and there.

But in a few moments this passed off, for he made a desperate effort to
command himself, knowing full well that if he did not act his case was
hopeless. His only chance was, he knew, to rush out through the mist
into pure air. But which way? He had lost all idea of the direction by
which he had come; he dare not stoop down, and try to trace his
foot-prints, because of the vapour being certainly more dense and
dangerous closer to the surface, and all that was feasible was to make a
rush, chancing whether it was forward into greater danger, to right or
left, hoping only that his instinct would