“Yo’ done guessed it!” exclaimed the colored man, relapsing into his ordinary speech. “I’se got a meal all ready.” They agreed that they might not have another opportunity soon to partake of food, so they all gathered about the table, on which Washington had spread a good meal. “Come on, let’s go outside and view this new and strange land at closer quarters,” the professor said, when they had satisfied their appetites. “We can’t see much from inside the ship.” Accordingly the heavy door in the side of the _Mermaid_ was slid back, and, for the first time the travelers stepped out on the surface of the land in the interior of the earth. At first it seemed no different than the ordinary land to which they were accustomed. But they soon found it had many strange attributes. The queer shifting and changing light, with the myriad of hues was one of them, but to this the adventurers had, by this time, become accustomed, though it was, none the less, a marvel to them. It was odd enough to see the landscape blood red one instant, and a pale green the next, as it does when you look through differently colored glasses. Then, too, they noticed that the grass and flowers grew much more abundantly than in the outer part of the world. They saw clover six feet high, and blades of grass even taller. In some places the growth of grass was so big that they were in danger of getting lost in it. “If the grass is like this, what will the trees be?” asked Mark. “There are some away over there,” Jack replied. “We’ll have to take a sail over. They must be several hundred feet high.” “Well, at any rate, here’s a little brook, and the water looks good to drink,” went on Mark. “I’m thirsty, so here goes.” He hurried to where a stream was flowing sluggishly between grassy banks. The water was as clear as crystal, and Mark got down on his face and prepared to sip some of the liquid up. But, no sooner had his lips touched it, than he sprang up with a cry and stood gazing at the water. “What’s the matter?” asked Jack. “Hot?” “No, it isn’t hot,” Mark replied, “but it isn’t water. It’s white molasses!” “White molasses?” repeated the professor, coming up at that moment. “What are you talking about?” He stooped down and dipped his finger into the stream. He drew it up quickly, and there ran from it big drops that flowed as slowly as the extract of the sugarcane does in cold weather. “You’re about right, Mark,” he said. “It’s water but it’s almost as thick as molasses.” He touched his finger to his tongue. “It’s good to drink, all right,” he went on, “only it will be a little slow going down.” Then he dipped up a palm full, and let it trickle down his throat. “It is the strangest water I ever saw,” he added. “It must be that the lack of some peculiar property of air, which we have on the surface, has caused this. I must make some notes on it,” and he drew out pencil and paper. He was about to jot down some facts when he was interrupted by a cry from Washington.