g them over,
during your heavy but agitated sleep. I have come to this logical
conclusion--whereas we may at any moment perish, so at any moment we may
be saved! We need, therefore, prepare ourselves for whatever may turn up
in the great chapter of accidents."

"But what would you have us do?" I cried. "Are we not utterly helpless?"

"No! While there is life there is hope. At all events, there is one
thing we can do--eat, and thus obtain strength to face victory or
death."

As he spoke, I looked at my uncle with a haggard glance. I had put off
the fatal communication as long as possible. It was now forced upon me,
and I must tell him the truth.

Still I hesitated.

"Eat," I said, in a deprecating tone as if there were no hurry.

"Yes, and at once. I feel like a starving prisoner," he said, rubbing
his yellow and shivering hands together.

And, turning round to the guide, he spoke some hearty, cheering words,
as I judged from his tone, in Danish. Hans shook his head in a terribly
significant manner. I tried to look unconcerned.

"What!" cried the Professor, "you do not mean to say that all our
provisions are lost?"

"Yes," was my lowly spoken reply, as I held out something in my hand,
"this morsel of dried meat is all that remains for us three."

My uncle gazed at me as if he could not fully appreciate the meaning of
my words. The blow seemed to stun him by its severity. I allowed him to
reflect for some moments.

"Well," said I, after a short pause, "what do you think now? Is there
any chance of our escaping from our horrible subterranean dangers? Are
we not doomed to perish in the great hollows of the centre of the
earth?"

But my pertinent questions brought no answer. My uncle either heard me
not, or appeared not to do so.

And in this way a whole hour passed. Neither of us cared to speak. For
myself, I began to feel the most fearful and devouring hunger. My
companions, doubtless, felt the same horrible tortures, but neither of
them would touch the wretched morsel of meat that remained. It lay
there, a last remnant of all our great preparations for the mad and
senseless journey!

I looked back, with wonderment, to my own folly. Fully was I aware that,
despite his enthusiasm, and the ever-to-be-hated scroll of Saknussemm,
my uncle should never have started on his perilous voyage. What memories
of the happy past, what previsions of the horrible future, now filled my
brain!

CHAPTER 41

HUNGE