windows rattled. Things were shaken from my table to the floor. Then
came the thunder of an explosion from the mountain and another shower
of fire. After a few seconds there were noises like the trampling of
horses' hoofs. It was, of course, the noise of the shot-out stones
falling upon the rocks of the mountainsides eight miles away.

"I decided to ascend the volcano and see the crater from which all these
interesting things came. A few friends went with me. For most of the way
we traveled on horses. After two or three hours we reached the bottom of
the cone of rocks and ashes. From there we had to go on foot. We went
over to the river of red-hot lava. We planned to walk up along its edge.
But the hot rock was smoking, and the wind blew the smoke into our
faces. A thick mist of fine ashes from the crater almost suffocated us.
Sulphur fumes blew toward us and choked us. I said,

"'We must cross the stream of lava. On the other side the wind will not
trouble us.'

"'Cross that melted rock?' my friends cried out. 'We should sink into it
and be burned alive.'

"But as we stood talking great stones were thrown out of the volcano.
They rolled down the mountainside close to us. If they had struck us
it would have been death. There was only one way to save ourselves. I
covered my face with my hat and rushed across the stream of lava. The
melted rock was so thick and heavy that I did not sink in. I only burned
my boots and scorched my hands. My friends followed me. On that side we
were safe. We climbed for half an hour. Then we came to the head of our
red river. It did not flow over the edge of the crater. Many feet down
from the top it had torn a hole through the cone. I shall never forget