See! the lava-beds stretch out before them. It is clear enough now that Hawaii, the island of flowers, was born of fire. All these miles of gray, shining substance once poured, a broad river of fire, from the crater above. Some of the lava looks like broad waves; again, it is in pools, or rivers, or coils, with great caves here and there. These caves are really bubbles which have suddenly burst as they cooled. Auwae looks off to each side of the road, built with so much labour up the mountain; then she thinks of what her grandmother has told her of her own journey to Kilauea, years ago. At that time there was no road over the lava-beds, and her horse slipped many times as he stepped on places smooth as glass. And many times his hoofs were badly cut on sharp edges, and left bloody marks behind him. The air is quite still. Not a sound can be heard. No birds nor insects make their homes on these lava stretches. Yet do not think for a moment that nothing grows here. The moist air and the rains have been great workers, and, in some strange way, delicate ferns, nasturtiums, guavas, and even trees, have taken root, so that the lava-beds are nearly covered. Hour after hour passes by. Auwae gets so tired she nearly falls from her horse. The luncheon has been eaten long ago. There is no water to drink except what the showers have left in little hollows by the wayside. The children have stopped their chatter and lie with closed eyes on their horses' backs. The smell of sulphur grows strong, and Upa's father turns around to call out: "Children, here we are at last! And there is my old friend Lono in the doorway to welcome us." CHAPTER XI. THE VOLCANO. AUWAE suddenly forgets the long and tiresome ride, as she jumps from her horse's back in front of the hotel. This hotel is built on the edge of a crater! Think of the family who live here year after year! Night after night they look from the windows upon the raging fire below, yet are not afraid. Many a time the earth shakes beneath them, and the house rocks to and fro. The shelf of lava on which it stands may break at any moment, and the people within may suddenly be flung over the precipice. Yet they live on, and work and play as others do who have nothing to fear. In many places around the house are cracks in the earth from which sulphur fumes are rising. As the children look out in front they see the crater itself, more than nine miles round, and nearly a quarter of a mile deep. As they creep out and look over the edge, what is before them? The crater is filled with steam, while over in a distant corner of the pit they look for the first time upon the "house of everlasting fire," as the old legends call it,--the home of the goddess Pele. The flames rise and fall, now high enough to light up the evening sky, now low as though dying out, and with it can be heard the breathing of this great furnace of nature. It sounds like the restless ocean many miles away.