it not?"

"Very good arrangement," said Uncle John.

"It renders me content to know that in any difficulty they cannot be
hurt. I am not scare, myself, but it is pleasant to know I have what you
call the side that is safe. From my American wife I have many of your
excellent speech figures. But now! The launch is big. Remain happy in
Naples--happy as Vesuvio will let you--and watch his vast, his gigantic
exhibition. If danger come, you all enter my launch and be saved. If no
danger, you have a marvelous experience." The serious look glided from
his face, and was replaced by a smile as bright as before.

"Thank you very much," responded Uncle John, gratefully. "I shall go
back to the girls well satisfied."

"Make the signorini stay in to-day," warned the colonel. "It is bad,
just now, and so black one can nothing at all observe. To-morrow it will
be better, and all can go without. I will see you myself, then, and tell
you what to do."

Then he insisted that Uncle John clear his parched throat with a glass
of vermouth--a harmless drink of which all Italians are very fond--and
sent him away much refreshed in body and mind.

He made his way through the ashy rain back to the hotel. People were
holding umbrellas over their heads and plodding through the dust with
seeming unconcern. At one corner a street singer was warbling, stopping
frequently to cough the lava dust from his throat or shake it from his
beloved mandolin. A procession of peasants passed, chanting slowly and