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Updated: June 21, 2025
"Come, come!" I ran. Hans and the Icelanders never stirred. "Look!" cried the Professor. "Arne Saknussemm!" replied my uncle. "Do you yet doubt?" I made no answer; and I returned in silence to my lava seat in a state of utter speechless consternation. Here was crushing evidence.
Fortunately for us, these concussions became less and less frequent, which made me fancy that the gallery was getting wider and wider. There could be now no doubt that we had chanced upon the road once followed by Saknussemm, but instead of going down in a proper manner, we had, through our own imprudence, drawn a whole sea with us!
I felt fearfully disappointed, and I would not admit that the obstacle was final. I stopped, I looked underneath the block: no opening. Above: granite still. Hans passed his lamp over every portion of the barrier in vain. We must give up all hope of passing it. I sat down in despair. My uncle strode from side to side in the narrow passage. "But how was it with Saknussemm?" I cried.
We should find a perfect stream of pilgrims on the traces of Arne Saknussemm, if this document were once made public." "But, my dear sir, is not this paper very likely to be a hoax?" I urged. "The book in which we find it is sufficient proof of its authenticity," he replied.
It is only an accidental obstruction, not met by Saknussemm, and if we don't destroy it we shall be unworthy to reach the centre of the earth." Such was my sentence! The soul of the Professor had passed into me. The genius of discovery possessed me wholly. I forgot the past, I scorned the future.
Your name, graven from stage to stage, leads the bold follower of your footsteps to the very centre of our planet's core, and there again we shall find your own name written with your own hand. I too will inscribe my name upon this dark granite page. But for ever henceforth let this cape that advances into the sea discovered by yourself be known by your own illustrious name Cape Saknussemm."
My uncle at once fastened upon this as the centre of interest, and he laboured at that blot, until by the help of his microscope he ended by making out the following Runic characters which he read without difficulty. "Arne Saknussemm!" he cried in triumph. "Why that is the name of another Icelander, a savant of the sixteenth century, a celebrated alchemist!"
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 "Arne Saknussemm!" cried my uncle, "now, unbeliever, do you begin to have faith?" It was totally impossible for me to answer a single word.
We are decidedly not upon the road followed by Saknussemm. All we have to do is to go back. Let us take one night's good rest, and before three days are over, I promise you we shall have regained the point where the galleries divided." "Yes, we may, if our strength lasts as long," I cried, in a lamentable voice. "And why not?" "Tomorrow, among us three, there will not be a drop of water.
"Yes," said my uncle, "was he stopped by this stone barrier?" "No, no," I replied with animation. "This fragment of rock has been shaken down by some shock or convulsion, or by one of those magnetic storms which agitate these regions, and has blocked up the passage which lay open to him. Many years have elapsed since the return of Saknussemm to the surface and the fall of this huge fragment.
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