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My uncle turned to the imperturbable guide, who nodded, and spoke as usual one word. "Scartaris." My uncle looked at me with a proud and triumphant glance. "A crater," he said, "you hear?" I did hear, but I was totally unable to make reply. The crater of Mount Sneffels represented an inverted cone, the gaping orifice apparently half a mile across; the depth indefinite feet.
Among others, to his insane delight, the shadow of Scartaris was marked and clear, and moved slowly with the radiant start of day. My uncle moved with it in a state of mental ecstasy. At twelve o'clock exactly, when the sun had attained its highest altitude for the day, the shadow fell upon the edge of the central pit!
The indications of the learned Icelander hinted at in the cryptogram, pointed to this fact that the shadow of Scartaris came to touch that particular way during the latter days of the month of June. That sharp peak might hence be considered as the gnomon of a vast sun dial, the shadow projected from which on a certain day would point out the road to the centre of the earth.
That learned philosopher did get to the bottom of Sneffels, he has seen the shadow of Scartaris touch the edge of the crater before the kalends of July; he may even have heard the legendary stories told in his day about that crater reaching to the centre of the world; but as for reaching it himself, as for performing the journey, and returning, if he ever went, I say no he never, never did that."
If you had not deserted me like a fool I should have taken you to the Copenhagen office, to Liffender & Co., and you would have learned then that there is only one trip every month from Copenhagen to Rejkiavik, on the 22nd." "Well?" "Well, if we waited for the 22nd June we should be too late to see the shadow of Scartaris touch the crater of Sneffels.
The question being put, Hans replied: "Scartaris." My uncle shot a triumphant glance at me. "Now for the crater!" he cried. The crater of Snæfell resembled an inverted cone, the opening of which might be half a league in diameter. Its depth appeared to be about two thousand feet. Imagine the aspect of such a reservoir, brim full and running over with liquid fire amid the rolling thunder.
To such positive statements I could make no reply. I therefore took refuge in other dark passages of the document. "What is the meaning of this word Scartaris, and what have the kalends of July to do with it?" My uncle took a few minutes to consider. For one short moment I felt a ray of hope, speedily to be extinguished. For he soon answered thus: "What is darkness to you is light to me.
"Well, in the first place, I wish to ask what are this Jokul, this Sneffels, and this Scartaris, names which I have never heard before?" "Nothing easier. I received not long ago a map from my friend, Augustus Petermann, at Liepzig. Nothing could be more apropos. Take down the third atlas in the second shelf in the large bookcase, series Z, plate 4."
Every hillock, every rock and stone, every projecting surface, had its share of the beaming torrent, and threw its shadow on the ground. Amongst them all, Scartaris laid down his sharp-pointed angular shadow which began to move slowly in the opposite direction to that of the radiant orb. My uncle turned too, and followed it.
No eruption has occurred since 1219 in fact it has ceased to be a volcano at all." After this what more could I say? Yes, I thought of another objection. "But what is all this about Scartaris and the kalends of July ?" My uncle reflected deeply. Presently he gave forth the result of his reflections in a sententious tone. "What appears obscure to you, to me is light.
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