At this moment Hans came, he saw my hand in my uncle's, and I may
safely say that there was joy in his countenance.
"_God dag,_" said he.
"How do you do, Hans? How are you? And now, uncle, tell me where we
are at the present moment?"
"To-morrow, Axel, to-morrow. Now you are too faint and weak. I have
bandaged your head with compresses which must not be disturbed. Sleep
now, and to-morrow I will tell you all."
"But do tell me what time it is, and what day."
"It is Sunday, the 8th of August, and it is ten at night. You must
ask me no more questions until the 10th."
In truth I was very weak, and my eyes involuntarily closed. I wanted
a good night's rest; and I therefore went off to sleep, with the
knowledge that I had been four long days alone in the heart of the
earth.
Next morning, on awakening, I looked round me. My couch, made up of
all our travelling gear, was in a charming grotto, adorned with
splendid stalactites, and the soil of which was a fine sand. It was
half light. There was no torch, no lamp, yet certain mysterious
glimpses of light came from without through a narrow opening in the
grotto. I heard too a vague and indistinct noise, something like the
murmuring of waves breaking upon a shingly shore, and at times I
seemed to hear the whistling of wind.
I wondered whether I was awake, whether I was dreaming, whether my brain,
crazed by my fall, was not affected by imaginary noises. Yet neither
eyes, nor ears could be so utterly deceived.
It is a ray of daylight, I thought, sliding in through this cleft in
the rock! That is indeed the murmuring of waves! That is the rustling
noise of wind. Am I quite mistaken, or have we returned to the
surface of the earth? Has my uncle given up the expedition, or is it
happily terminated?
I was asking myself these unanswerable questions when the Professor
entered.
"Good morning, Axel," he cried cheerily. "I feel sure you are better."
"Yes, I am indeed," said I, sitting up on my couch.
"You can hardly fail to be better, for you have slept quietly. Hans
and I watched you by turns, and we have noticed you were evidently
recovering."
"Indeed, I do feel a great deal better, and I will give you a proof
of that presently if you will let me have my breakfast."
"You shall eat, lad. The fever has left you. Hans rubbed your wounds
with some ointment or other of which the Icelanders keep the secret,
and they have healed marvellously. Our hunter is a splendid fellow!"
Whilst he went on talking, my uncle prepared a few provisions, which
I devoured eagerly, notwithstanding his advice to the contrary. All
the while I was overwhelming him with questions which he answered
readily.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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