"shiver-my-timbers" interlude. A coolie walks at the head of each
horse, and reasons softly with him when he misbehaves. We rode for
thirteen miles to the foot of the volcano, then at one o'clock we left
the horses with one of the men and began to climb. Each climber was
tied to a coolie whose duty it was to pull, and to carry the
lantern. We made a weird procession, and the strange call of the
coolies as they bent their bodies to the task, mingled with the
laughter and exclamations of the party.

For some miles the pine trees and undergrowth covered the mountain,
then came a stretch of utter barren-ness and isolation. Miles above
yet seemingly close enough to touch rose tongues of flame and crimson
smoke. Above was the majestic serenity of the summer night, below the
peaceful valley, with the twinkling lights of far away villages. It
was a queer sensation to be hanging thus between earth and sky, and to
feel that the only thing between me and death was a small Japanese
coolie, who was half dragging me up a mountain side that was so
straight it was sway-back!

When at last we reached the top, daylight was showing faintly in the
east. Slowly and with a glory unspeakable the sun rose. The great
flames and crimson smoke, which at night had appeared so dazzling,
sank into insignificance. If anyone has the temerity to doubt the
existence of a gracious, mighty God, let him stand at sunrise on the
top of Asamayama and behold the wonder of His works!

I hardly dared to breathe for fear I would dispel the illusion, but a
hearty lunch eaten with the edge of the crater for a table made things
seem pretty real. The coming down was fearful for the ashes were very
deep, and we often went in up to our knees.