"Well," returned Nigel, with a laugh; "you at least gave me to
understand that other people said something of that sort."

"Da's right, Massa Nadgel--kite right. You're k'rect _now_."

"People have indeed got some strange ideas about me, I believe,"
interposed the hermit, with a grave almost sad expression and tone. "But
come, let me introduce you to my hermitage and you shall judge for
yourself."

So saying, this singular being turned and led the way further up the
rugged side of the peak of Rakata.

After about five minutes' walk in silence, the trio reached a spot where
there was a clear view over the tree-tops, revealing the blue waters of
the strait, with the Java shores and mountains in the distance.

Behind them there yawned, dark and mysterious, a mighty cavern, so black
and high that it might well suggest a portal leading to the regions
below, where Vulcan is supposed to stir those tremendous fires which
have moulded much of the configuration of the world, and which are ever
seething--an awful Inferno--under the thin crust of the globe on which
we stand.

Curiously formed and large-leaved trees of the tropics, with their
pendent parasites, as well as rank grasses, sprouting from below and
hanging from above, partially concealed this cavern from Nigel when he
first turned towards it, but a few steps further on he could see it in
all its rugged grandeur.