of thunder before a storm. There surely must be a storm raging
down below at the foot of the mountains. He got up and went
out to see.

The moon was rising. The atmosphere was pure and calm.
Not a cloud visible either above or below. Here and there was
a passing reflection from the flames of Antuco, but neither storm
nor lightning, and myriads of bright stars studded the zenith.
Still the rumbling noises continued. They seemed to meet together
and cross the chain of the Andes. Glenarvan returned to the CASUCHA
more uneasy than ever, questioning within himself as to the
connection between these sounds and the flight of the guanacos.
He looked at his watch and found the time was about two in the morning.
As he had no certainty, however, of any immediate danger,
he did not wake his companions, who were sleeping soundly
after their fatigue, and after a little dozed off himself,
and slumbered heavily for some hours.

All of a sudden a violent crash made him start to his feet.
A deafening noise fell on his ear like the roar of artillery.
He felt the ground giving way beneath him, and the CASUCHA
rocked to and fro, and opened.

He shouted to his companions, but they were already awake,
and tumbling pell-mell over each other. They were being rapidly dragged
down a steep declivity. Day dawned and revealed a terrible scene.
The form of the mountains changed in an instant. Cones were cut off.
Tottering peaks disappeared as if some trap had opened at their base.
Owing to a peculiar phenomenon of the Cordilleras, an enormous mass,
many miles in extent, had been displaced entirely, and was speeding