As we ascended, the flow became hotter under our feet, as well as
more porous and glistening. It was so hot that a shower of rain
hissed as it fell upon it. The crust became increasingly insecure,
and necessitated our walking in single file with the guide in front,
to test the security of the footing. I fell through several times,
and always into holes full of sulphurous steam, so malignantly acid
that my strong dog-skin gloves were burned through as I raised
myself on my hands.
We had followed a lava-flow for thirty miles up to the crater's
brink, and now we had toiled over recent lava for three hours, and
by all calculation were close to the pit, yet there was no smoke or
sign of fire, and I felt sure that the volcano had died out for once
for our especial disappointment. Indeed, I had been making up my
mind for disappointment since we left the crater-house, in
consequence of reading seven different accounts, in which language
was exhausted in describing Kilauea.
Suddenly, just above, and in front of us, gory drops were tossed in
air, and springing forwards we stood on the brink of Hale-mau-mau,
which was about 35 feet below us. I think we all screamed, I know
we all wept, but we were speechless, for a new glory and terror had
been added to the earth.
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