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Unable to understand what he meant, I turned to obey his commands.
Neither Hans nor the other Icelanders moved a step.

"Look!" said the Professor, in something of the manner of the French
general, pointing out the pyramids to his army.

And fully partaking his stupefaction, if not his joy, I read on the
eastern side of the huge block of stone, the same characters, half eaten
away by the corrosive action of time, the name, to me a thousand times
accursed--

[Illustration: Runic Glyphs]

"Arne Saknussemm!" cried my uncle, "now, unbeliever, do you begin to
have faith?"

It was totally impossible for me to answer a single word. I went back to
my pile of lava, in a state of silent awe. The evidence was
unanswerable, overwhelming!

In a few moments, however, my thoughts were far away, back in my German
home, with Gretchen and the old cook. What would I have given for one of
my cousin's smiles, for one of the ancient domestic's omelettes, and for
my own feather bed!

How long I remained in this state I know not. All I can say is, that
when at last I raised my head from between my hands, there remained at
the bottom of the crater only myself, my uncle and Hans. The 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

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