Icelandic
porters had been dismissed and were now descending the exterior slopes
of Mount Sneffels, on their way to Stapi. How heartily did I wish myself
with them!

Hans slept tranquilly at the foot of a rock in a kind of rill of lava,
where he had made himself a rough and ready bed. MY uncle was walking
about the bottom of the crater like a wild beast in a cage. I had no
desire, neither had I the strength, to move from my recumbent position.
Taking example by the guide, I gave way to a kind of painful somnolency,
during which I seemed both to hear and feel continued heavings and
shudderings in the mountain.

In this way we passed our first night in the interior of a crater.

Next morning, a grey, cloudy, heavy sky hung like a funereal pall over
the summit of the volcanic cone. I did not notice it so much from the
obscurity that reigned around us, as from the rage with which my uncle
was devoured.

I fully understood the reason, and again a glimpse of hope made my heart
leap with joy. I will briefly explain the cause.

Of the three openings which yawned beneath our steps, only one could
have been followed by the adventurous Saknussemm. According to the words
of the learned Icelander, it was only to be known by that one particular
mentioned in the cryptograph, that the shadow of Scartaris fell upon it,
just touching its mouth in the last days of the month of June.

We were, in fact, to consider the pointed peak as the stylus of an
immense sun-dial, the shadow of which pointed on one given day, like the
inexorable finger of fate, to the yawning chasm which led into the
interior of the earth.

Now, as often happens in these regions, should the sun fail to burst
through the clouds, no shadow. Consequently, no chance of discovering
the right aperture. We had already reached the 25th June. If the kindly
heavens would only remain densely clouded for six more days, we should
have to put off our voyage of discovery for another year, when certainly
there would be one person fewer in the party. I already had sufficient
of the mad and monstrous enterprise.

It would be utterly impossible to depict the impotent rage of Professor
Hardwigg. The day passed away, and not the faintest outline of a shadow
could be seen at the bottom of the crater. Hans the guide never moved
from his place. He must have been curious to know what we were about, if
indeed he could believe we were about anything. As for my uncle, he
never addressed