A strange, nervous fear took possession of Max. How can it be accounted for? He was afraid the boat would capsize, and he would be drowned. And as he clutched the side of the boat with tenacious grip, he prayed that he might not fall overboard, and yet he felt certain his life would be ended by fire in a few minutes. It is recorded by one of the great English generals who was in India at the time of the mutiny--1859--that a sepoy on his way to execution, was scared at the thought of accidental death. The sentence had been, that he was to be tied to the muzzle of a cannon, and blown to pieces. Horrible as the death was to be, the man saw, or fancied he saw, an English soldier level his gun at him. He became hysterical. His shrieks rent the air. He was asked what had so suddenly unnerved him. He pointed to the soldier, who was only practicing the manual of arms, and gasped out nervously that he was afraid the gun might go off and he would be killed. And yet ten minutes later that very man assisted his executioners to strap him to the cannon which was to blow him into eternity. It was so with Max. He had nerved himself for death in the flames to which the boat was speeding, but he was afraid he might fall overboard and be drowned. Selim sat as rigid as stone. Save the movement of his chest no sign of life was perceptible. As if by magic the air became cooler, the boat rocked less violently, there was but a slight rumbling to be heard, but in its place a sizzing, as if gas was being forced through an open pipe. “What does it mean?” thought Max. “The end has come. Good-by, world--good-by.” CHAPTER XV. IN THE VOLCANO’S MOUTH. But gradually a belief stole into the American’s mind that the end was not yet. The water had become calm. Max, while keeping his right hand firm on the side of the boat, gradually threw off the covering from his head. A sight met his gaze which caused him to shiver with fear. Above his head he could see the clear, blue Oriental sky and the bright, twinkling stars. A shaft, yet not regularly made, but one excavated by volcanic action, rose above him. It seemed hundreds of feet to the top. The boat was resting placidly on the water, if the strange-looking liquid could be called by such a name. Strange looking! But few ever saw a lake or river like unto it. That there was water was not a matter of doubt, but in it floated strange-looking lizards and fishes. Pieces of stone, or glass, seemed as buoyant as the fish themselves. Curiosity got the better of fear, and Max grabbed one of the fish as it floated by. He dropped it in the boat, and it broke in two. It was petrified, or rather changed into lava. “Girzilla! Girzilla! my own--my love! Fit queen of my household, where art thou?” Ibrahim was talking in his delirium. “Get up, old fellow; stop your dreaming!” shouted Max so loudly that he was startled by the sound of his own voice.