We went on in silence, through a tract of low level land, void of trees, but clothed with a sort of monstrous tall grasses; and, having gone about a mile and a half, we came to further woods which skirted the scarps of mountains.

These mountains, or rather high hills, rose not above two hundred feet; but, on either side, they ranged along almost to the cliff, making, as it were, a spine to the island with their pointed tops. Hard by the woods we had left, run a little swift river, having on its banks many shrubs with scarlet blossoms, the leaves whereof made sunning places for red and blue butterflies.

Thus, for about a mile, the river run to the westward; to pour itself, through a ferny grotto, into a little lake, a lake scarce larger than one of our English duck-ponds. ’Twas almost circular in shape; and, being perfectly free from water-plants and clear as crystal, it shone in the sun-glare like a mirror.

We went this way; and had nigh reached the margin of the lake, when Ambrose, on a sudden, stooped forward on his bended knee upon the ground where a patch of withered moss appeared like a scab in the tall grasses. Bidding me to stand clear, he reached forth and set his finger upon what I took for a little pebble there. Next moment a square slab opened in the ground, in manner of a trapdoor. ’Twas an iron hatch cunningly masked with moss.

“This,” said Ambrose, “is the entry to the Cloisters.”

And, stepping to the cavity, he began to descend into it. “Follow!” said he. “Have no fear!”

When he was gotten down sufficiently, I set my foot upon a ladder within the pit; but, when I had descended a good way in the darkness, I saw that the lid above me was slowly shutting down. I cried aloud, supposing that we were entombed; but Ambrose laughed, his shrill voice sounding eerily from below. Next moment, there shone a dazzling light. ’Twas the strange white light which I had known in the stone passage, and it revealed such another passage of stone.

I leaped the remaining steps of the ladder, and followed Ambrose; who, having gone a little way along, opened a door and passed within. He pressed a little knob on the wall, and immediately the place was filled with the white light, but not so bright withal as in the passage. I beheld a great circular chamber of stone; and the painted walls and roof, and the mat of plaited grasses upon the floor, made a harmony of green, very comfortable to the eyes. A cushioned seat, or divan, of green silk ran all round the wall; and above it, here and there, were shelves containing books bound in green calf. In the midst, stood three tall tables for standing and writing at.

Ambrose stepped to the divan; and, opening a drawer beneath, he took out clean parchments. From another drawer, he took parchments covered with writing. The writing was in Latin, roughly scrawled and scarce legible. He set them side by side upon one of the tables, saying:

“This is your task. You must make fair copies of these.”

“And what,” said I, “if I will not?”

He smiled grimly. “But you will,” said he, “unless, peradventure, you would pass through the door that——”

He broke off, staring with a sudden fear. “I have forgot the sulphur!” said he hoarsely, “Come!”

And he turned, and run from the place.

We came without. Twilight was fallen this while, and the woods looked desolate. Quickly the sky turned violet blue, and the stars rushed out.

“Whither go we?” said I, as Ambrose led the way through a clump of breadfruit trees.

“To gather sulphur,” said he, “Heaven help me! I had forgot. Haste! Let us haste!”

Many bats flew in the shadowy air; and there came continually a hoarse croaking of frogs, and weird, rat-like voices. Fireflies flitted among the trees, like a slow-fallen snow of fire. On old logs and tree-stumps, blue fire flickered in flying traces.

Ambrose went so fast that I had much ado to keep up with him.

There was no moon, and the constellations of the stars were abridged with sombre clouds; but, when we had gone about a mile, the darkness began to be tinged with a faint lurid glow, the air was hot and smelt sulphurous, the vegetation grew sparse and stunted, on a dark hard ground cracked in fissures.

Suddenly the voice of the volcan boomed, like a terrible tocsin in the night. It came from close in front.

We went a little farther; but, on a sudden, Ambrose clutched hold on my arm. “Hist!” said he in my ear, and drew me behind a curtain of withered trees. He pointed between the branches; I looked, and what I saw was this:

In an open space, the earth being bare and blasted and black, was a little round hill, dark red in colour, but pink about the top; in height about fifty feet, and shaped like an inverted bowl. White and pearly vapour ascended from it thinly, in circling wraiths. At the foot thereof stood Doctor Copicus.

He stood motionless, his face towards the volcan. He began to speak.

“I grow liker and liker to thee!” said he, with passion in his shrill voice, “Liker to thy hollow heart! thy hollow, fiery heart!... I, too, am a volcan! On fire! On fire! Waiting!

“That I should be baffled, denied the secret which holds me from my revenge!

“Yet it cannot be for long. A little while, but a little while, and I shall come at it, I shall find my combustible! Then tremble, thou accursed race! You cast me out! You cast me out! Ha! Your proud cities, your bigot universities, your palaces, the very cottages upon your fields, shall be shattered! shall be shattered! I’ll make them like to this place of ashes!”

His voice rose, and quavered, and broke; the strung, tortured note of it sounds even yet in my ears. He shook his clenched fist above him; and, as he turned in the weird light, I saw that his brow was ribbed and stricken like the twisted lava-stones that strewed his path.

He scarce had ended, but another figure—a little lad—appeared from behind the volcan. His face was wild and mazed; his long brown hair fell straggling upon his forehead; his body was thin like a skeleton. He was dressed in the rags and tatters of a seaman’s watch-cloak. I knew him: ’twas the little antic lad whom the Englishman had told me of.

He came, stepping trippingly, to the Doctor’s side, and said in a shrill voice:

“I heard the Toad shriek, and his golden eggs are rifled!”

The Doctor turned; and, stamping his foot, he asked:

“When was this?”

The lad answered:

“Like a swallow I fly. I saw and I flew.”

“Is he ’scaped?” said the Doctor. “Is he tracked? Is the White One out?”

“He is out! He is out! and tracking about,” cried the lad.

There was silence; while the antic lad turned, and looked directly towards us. Then he began:

“Two is two, and four is four....”

“Away!” said Ambrose in my ear. “Soft!... Now!”

We stole away on tip-toe in the shadow of the blasted trees.

“To the right,” said Ambrose in a whisper; and, as we came upon turfy ground, “Run, soft and swift, for your life!” said he.

And we set off on silent foot, hearkening, in fear and trembling.