As there were no vessels in the harbor of Reykjavik, save one that was taking in a cargo of ponies for Norway, besides the native fishing boats, and Breeze saw no chance of returning to America at present, he gladly accepted Lord Seabright’s invitation to accompany him to the geysers. Nimbus was to go, of course, to cook for the little expedition, and he looked forward with considerable anxiety to mounting and riding one of the shaggy little ponies that he had treated with such contempt upon the occasion of his former visit to the capital. He had never ridden on horseback in his life; but it was certain he must do so now if he expected to reach the geysers, for his own short legs would never carry him that distance, and there was not a wagon, cart, or carriage to be had in all Iceland. So horseback it must be, or not go at all; and during the several days of preparation for the trip, Nimbus occasionally went on shore, and gazed in silence and sadness at the little shaggy monsters that were being collected by the guide, evidently trying to determine upon which one of them it would be safest to trust himself. The guide was a grave, fresh-faced young Icelander named Haik Gierssen, who had conducted tourists to the geysers ever since he had been old enough to do so, and whose father, Gier Zöega, had been a guide before him. He had undertaken to buy the ponies for the expedition, and in consequence was the most eagerly sought man in the town. Everybody had ponies to sell; and though the trip would probably occupy less than a week, it was necessary to carry tents, provisions, blankets, and extra clothing, even for that short time, and they must all be carried on ponyback. Thus, for the party of four, including the guide, twelve ponies were required, two apiece to be alternately ridden and rested over the rough roads, and four to carry the camp outfit. It is necessary to travel thus in Iceland, because there are no hotels on the whole island but the one at Reykjavik. The country-people are very hospitable, and will gladly share with a stranger the best they have; but they are also very poor, and most of their huts are so small and filthy that one is not apt to accept their kind offers of food and shelter more than once.