It runs quite close to the edge of the crater, there 1,000 feet in
depth, and gives a magnificent view of the whole area, with the pit
and the blowing cones. But the region through which the trail led
was rather an alarming one, being hollow and porous, all cracks and
fissures, nefariously concealed by scrub and ferns. I found a
place, as I thought, free from risk, and gave Kahele a feed of oats
on my plaid, but before he had finished them there was a rumbling
and vibration, and he went into the ground above his knees, so
snatching up the plaid and jumping on him I galloped away, convinced
that that crack was following me! However, either the crack thought
better of it, or Kahele travelled faster, for in another half-hour I
arrived where the whole region steams, smokes, and fumes with
sulphur, and was kindly welcomed here by Mr. Gilman, where he and
the old Chinaman appear to be alone.
After a seven hours' ride the quiet and the log fire are very
pleasant, and the host is a most intelligent and sympathising
listener. It is a solemn night, for the earth quakes, and the sound
of Halemaumau is like the surging of the sea.
HILO. June 11th.
Once more I am among palm and mango grove, and friendly faces, and
sounds of softer surges than those of Kilauea.
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