They did sail right. “As if an angel guided them,” Father Renaudin said. I hoped Isabella would not say anything about their sailing to please the king, and she did not; she only breathlessly watched them. It was a perfect success. Regan’s work again. At the close of the following day the basket swung on the cables stretching from shore to the island. Early the next morning we crossed to the island, which looked strange and more dangerous as we neared. We stood upon the shore and from the basket took the shovels, cords, hatchets and spears which we always carried now. There was a roll of blankets of straw cloth, which we had also brought to serve as shelter from heat. We took each a couple, slung on our shoulders; took long, strong staves in our hands and climbed up the gashed sides of the cliffs. Wondering more and more at every step at this strange rock, at the singular terror which we could but control with strong determination, we both felt like rushing even into the waters of the sea. From the high cliffs we gazed into a round, deep cavity, half-dark even at noon with a haze of settling smoke. “It looks like the throat of a beast,” said Regan, as we hesitated on the brink. Looking closely, we saw a volcanic crater such as was common all over the continent. It was only faintly alive. The smoke was reddish above the crater’s mouth. Listening, like a giant’s breath we could hear the roar of the surging flames far below. “What can be those two huge yellow spots in that vale?” I asked. “They look like two great plates of gold,” answered Regan. “Like little mirrors laid on the rock,” said I. “Shall we go down?” “Certainly, I came for that,” responded Regan. We began the descent. Once I paused. There was the tremor of a slight earthquake. The volcano’s breath was heavier. Under the clouds of smoke we were shaded. Cautiously we stepped from stone to stone, so much terrified that neither of us spoke. “What are these plates?” at last said I. They were about twelve feet in diameter, of a round, yellow and wrinkled substance, but whether vegetable, mineral or animal we could not determine. Without a word of his intention, Regan raised his hammer of stone and struck a powerful blow upon the yellow surface by which we were standing. The earth shuddered, the cliffs burst and cracked; the island itself leaped from the sea, and about our heads tumbled stone and pillars of rock, dust of lava, deluges of vines. An awful call of rage, a voice from the rocks, the menacing roar from the living soil sounded like the trump of doom about us. Everywhere, from all the walls of stone at once, not like thunder and not like sea—more like the bellow of the most mighty convulsion of earthquake which humanity ever knew. Trees fell; vines entangled us. We would have fled, but there was no place to flee. The land was raging. That voice—that maddening, horrible voice! “It’s an eye!”