[Note: this transcription was produced by an automatic OCR engine]

222 WITH NATIVES IN THE WESTERN PACIFIC

of the fire we expected to see, we find lava blocks and
ashes, and instead of the clash of elemental forces,
we see a dark mass, that glows dully. We can hardly
believe that here is the origin of the explosions that
shake the island, and are inclined to consider the
demon of the volcano rather as a mischievous clown
than a thundering, furious giant.

I went to the slope of the eastern crater to find a
spot from which I might be able to photograph an
eruption, and returned to camp just as the sun sank
down in red fire, and the evening mists formed a white
belt around the two black mountains. The tops of the
craters shone red against a cool evening sky.

Suddenly an immense cloud shot up, white and
sky-high. One side of it shone orange in the last
sunbeams, the other was dull and grey, and the top
mingled with the evening clouds. It was a wildly
beautiful sight, gone too soon. A hawk circled afar
in the green sky, night crept across the plain, and
soon the moon poured her silver over the tranquil
scene. I hoped in vain to see an eruption equal to
that of the last nights. Everything was quiet, the
volcano seemed extinct, the fog thickened, covering
the mountains and the moon. It became disagree-
ably cool, and there was a heavy dew. The natives
shivered in their blankets, and I was most uncomfort-
able under alight canvas. We were all up long
before daylight, when the volcano sent out a large
cloud. The sun and the fog had a long struggle,
when suddenly the clouds tore apart, and the welcome
sunbeams came to warm us.