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He therefore spoke to the hunter, who shook his head, saying: "Ofvanför." "It seems we must go higher," said my uncle. Then he asked Hans for his reason. "Mistour," replied the guide. "Ja Mistour," said one of the Icelanders in a tone of alarm. "What does that word mean?" I asked uneasily. "Look!" said my uncle. I looked down upon the plain.
"Ja, mistour yes, the mistour," cried one of the Icelandic guides in a terrified tone. It was the first time he had spoken. "What does this mysterious word signify?" I anxiously inquired. "Look," said my uncle. I looked down upon the plain below, and I saw a vast, a prodigious volume of pulverized pumice stone, of sand, of dust, rising to the heavens in the form of a mighty waterspout.
If this sand spout broke over us, we must all be infallibly destroyed, crushed in its fearful embraces. This extraordinary phenomenon, very common when the wind shakes the glaciers, and sweeps over the arid plains, is in the Icelandic tongue called "mistour." "Hastigt, hastigt!" cried our guide.
This phenomenon, which is not unfrequent when the wind blows from the glaciers, is called in Icelandic 'mistour. "Hastigt! hastigt!" cried our guide. Without knowing Danish I understood at once that we must follow Hans at the top of our speed. He began to circle round the cone of the crater, but in a diagonal direction so as to facilitate our progress.
He called the eider-duck hunter to his side. That worthy, however, shook his head. "Ofvanfor," was his sole spoken reply. "It appears," says my uncle with a woebegone look, "that we must go higher." He then turned to Hans, and asked him to give some reason for this decisive response. "Mistour," replied the guide.
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