nd four thousand feet, as nearly as
could be measured without the aid of instruments. Their idea had of
course been not only to reach this enormous rock, but also to ascend to
its summit, but this they found to be quite impracticable, a journey
round it demonstrating the fact that on all sides its cliffs rose
perpendicularly and without a single break from the base to the flat
summit. For that time at least they were defeated; but when they
finally turned their backs upon "Mount Mildmay," as they determined to
name it, it was with a fixed resolve that, before many days were over,
they would reach the summit with the aid of the _Flying Fish_.

Their journey back to the ship was marked by no more noteworthy incident
than the sighting in the distance of a herd of mammoths, apparently the
identical animals with which they had already had an encounter. They
followed a somewhat different route from their outward one, making a
detour round the group of hills which inclosed the "Schalckenberg
Geyser," and arrived at the ship late on the evening of the sixth day
from their departure, weary and somewhat foot-sore it is true, but in
all other respects in the very best of health, and with thoroughly
pleasant memories of their journey.

They were of course welcomed with open arms by the two friends they had
left behind them. Mildmay, under the professor's skilful treatment, was
rapidly advancing toward complete recovery; and as for the scientist
himself, he was jubilant in the highest degree over the fact that he had
been thoroughly successful in his preparation of that gigantic
"specimen," the mammoth. A great deal of desultory conversation of
course took place within the first hour of the wanderers' return; but at
last the party settled down, and then followed a recital by Sir Reginald
of the particulars of the journey. Both the professor and Mildmay were
of course intensely interested in the story, but in different ways.
Mildmay's interest was merely that of the ordinary travelled man of
culture, but von Schalckenberg was disposed to regard everything from
the scientist's view-point, and incessantly broke the continuity of the
narrative by a whole string of questions which neither Sir Reginald nor
the colonel could possibly answer. He was extravagantly delighted with
both the description of the geyser and the sight of the diamonds, and it
was difficult to say which pleased him most; perhaps the most gratifying
circumstanc