"At last," said Mr. Smith to me, after lighting the first pipe of the
twenty or more which he smoked each day, "we are well started. As to
whether the ascent will take more or less time--"
"In any case, Mr. Smith," interrupted I, "you and I are fully
resolved to pursue our quest to the end."
"Fully resolved, Mr. Strock."
"My chief has charged me to snatch the secret from this demon of the
Great Eyrie."
"We will snatch it from him, willing or unwilling," vowed Mr. Smith,
calling Heaven to witness. "Even if we have to search the very bowels
of the mountain."
"As it may happen, then," said I, "that our excursion will be
prolonged beyond today, it will be well to look to our provisions."
"Be easy, Mr. Strock; our guides have food for two days in their
knapsacks, besides what we carry ourselves. Moreover, though I left
my brave Nisko at the farm, I have my gun. Game will be plentiful in
the woods and gorges of the lower part of the mountain, and perhaps
at the top we shall find a fire to cook it, already lighted."
"Already lighted, Mr. Smith?"
"And why not, Mr. Strock? These flames! These superb flames, which
have so terrified our country folk! Is their fire absolutely cold, is
no spark to be found beneath their ashes? And then, if this is truly
a crater, is the volcano so wholly extinct that we cannot find there
a single ember? Bah! This would be but a poor volcano if it hasn't
enough fire even to cook an egg or roast a potato.
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