Then the mountain rumbled in its depths, and the sound of pouring heavy stones came up again. This time it did not die away, it stopped abruptly, as though by force of will. And we waited. It was so cold that I could sit still no longer, and, wrapping my cloak around me, tired as I was, walked up and down, up and down. The overhanging rocks, whose outlines showed so ghostly against the livid darkness, rose high above our heads. From time to time the sulphur thickened in the air, making us cough. And the deathness of that silence, the dumb horror of that stillness spread and spread and spread. It was all afraid. * * * * * The boy, curled under his rock, slept peacefully. We walked and waited. Then, in an instant, two great tongues of flame shot into the darkness, leapt high toward the sky, and two reports, as of the heaviest thunder, shook the mountain. The boy, awakened, jumped up quickly, looked at the flames as they sprang into the darkness, and the thunder of the second report shook the ground beneath his feet, turned to speak, when a sudden sharp clatter came like a hiss past all our ears, calling “Stones, stones,” he threw himself flat on his face and rolled right under the rock. We, too, rushed to the overhanging rocks and crouched down quickly, and the sharp clatter of stone on stone went on all around us. Asama had rumbled to some purpose, and she was resting. Then the utter silence, the dead, dumb horror came back, came back again. Fear breathed beside us in the darkness. Slowly the little stars above the rocks dropped out of the sky, the livid darkness changed to livid light, and it was dawn, a cold, grey dawn, but little lighter than the night had been. Still we could see, see the lava and the ash, so, rolling out from under our rock, we shook ourselves together, chattering with cold. The ground at our feet was sprinkled with pinky-grey stones, daubed with bright yellow sulphur, and glowing hot. They were as large as a clenched fist, with edges sharp and jagged. We stooped to pick up one--the least hot--and carry it wrapt in handkerchiefs, which it burnt, and mackintoshes which it singed, back to Karuizawa. The boy looked at the stones, looked at us, looked towards the crater, and asked with many warnings if we were to go on. We, too, looked at the stones, and thoughtfully towards the crater, and, as we looked, the mountain rumbled slowly in its depths.