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The bravest of the villagers at the foot of Vesuvius never dreamed of stopping the crater's mouth. But, happily, at last Mrs. Anderson's insane wrath went a little too far. "You poor lost sinner," she said, "to think you should go to destruction under my very eyes, disgracing us all, by running over the country at night with bad men! But there's mercy even for such as you."
You made the three-day trip to the living volcano at Hilo and sat at the crater's brink watching the molten lava lake tossing, hissing, writhing. You hung there, between horror and fascination. "Certainly a pretty sight, isn't it?" said her fellow travellers. "Makes the Grand Canyon look sick, I think, don't you?" "I've never seen it." "Oh, really!" On her return from Hilo she saw him.
At that moment, the moon, instead of appearing flat like a disc, showed its convexity. If the sun's rays had struck it obliquely, the shadow thrown would have brought out the high mountains, which would have been clearly detached. The eye might have gazed into the crater's gaping abysses, and followed the capricious fissures which wound through the immense plains.
That beautiful haze, which tints, but does not obscure, enshrouded the temples and spires, changing from heliotrope to lavender, from lavender to deepest purple; there was a departing flare of flame like the collapse of a burning building; a few clouds in the zenith, torn by the winds so that they resembled the craters of the moon, were tinted for an instant around the crater's rims; the clouds faded to a dove-like gray; they darkened; the gray disappeared; the purple crept from the canyon into the arched dome overhead; the day was ended, twilight passed, and darkness settled over all.
It was in the middle of the first week of April that these indications rose to the danger point, the flow of lava suddenly swelling from a rivulet to a river, pouring in a gleaming flood over the crater's rim, and meeting the other streams that came streaming down the volcano's rugged flank.
Now from the Keeper's planes writhed the Keeper's tangle of tentacles, uncoiling eagerly, avidly, through the twenty feet of space between their source and the enigmatic mechanism they manipulated. The crater's disks tilted downward.
He flashed into space headfirst, at an angle that took him over the crater's rim and fifty feet above the ground. He caught a glimpse of Santos' helmet, glowing like a pink balloon, and of the three Connies facing it. Rip's arms flashed above his head. His thumbs compressed. Air spurted from the two bottles, driving him downward feetfirst, directly at the heads of the Connies! Get the Scorpion!
The site of the demonstration was the shadowed, pitch-dark part of the floor of a crater twenty miles across, with walls some ten thousand jagged feet high. The furnace-like sunshine made the plain beyond the shadow into a sea of blinding brightness. The sunlit parts of the crater's walls were no less terribly glaring.
As he lay, he placed his ear to the muddy ground, but could hear no sound of mining operations beneath him. Foot by foot he hitched himself upward to the rim of the crater's edge, and again lay and listened for thrilling long-drawn minute after minute. Suddenly his heart jumped and his flesh went cold.
He appealed lightly to the squire, for thus he danced on the crater's brink, and had for answer, 'You're a cool scoundrel, Richmond. 'I choose to respect you, rather in spite of yourself, I fear, sir, said my father, bracing up. 'Did you hear my conversation with my daughter? 'I heard, if I may say so, the lion taking his share of it. 'All roaring to you, was it? 'Mr.
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