We then pushed on to cone number seven, which was belching forth huge volumes of steam and sulphur. The fumes, most fortunately, were being blown away from us. At this stage one of the guides refused to go any farther; it was too dangerous, he said, so he proceeded to retrace his steps, while we others continued our journey toward cone number eight. This was the last and largest, and was, I should estimate, about two hundred feet high; in fact, a veritable miniature volcano, spouting red-hot lava a hundred feet in the air with a ripping boom that could be heard for miles. Boulders that must have weighed a ton were being hurled high into the air as if shot from a cannon. Others followed to meet those coming down, and as they met they burst like explosive shells, scattering molten matter on all sides. This flowed down the incline in cascades like water, showing red, yellow, blue, and all the colours of the rainbow. [Illustration: TWO OF THE “DEAD” CONES PASSED BY THE PARTY. _From a Photograph._] It is impossible to describe the grandeur of the effect, and a knowledge of the force that was causing the display made one feel very small indeed. Some of the ejected masses were as large as a horse, and when they were belched forth were at a white heat. They went so high that they had time to cool and return to the vortex black. It was three o’clock in the afternoon when we reached this wonderful display. It had taken us nine hours to reach the volcano, and we were thirsty and well-nigh exhausted. We could not approach very near on account of the heat, but I made some photographic exposures, and then sat for an hour watching the wonderful sight. As the sun went down the magnificence of the scene increased. The ground shook at each explosion to such an extent as to make us sick. We found quantities of what is known as “Pele’s hair.”[1] It is caused by the wind blowing the liquid lava through the air, forming fine threads like human hair. [Footnote 1: Pele, according to the native legends, is the goddess of the volcano, and dwells in the crater.] As we approached cone number seven on our return journey the wind changed, and to our consternation we saw a cloud of sulphur blowing right across our path. These masses of vapour are so impregnated with sulphur and poisonous gases that it is impossible for any living thing to exist among them, and to get caught in their midst means death. Alarmed, we started to go around the other side, but found the lava was too hot; the surface was cool, but there was living fire beneath, and we dared not proceed. We kept on until the lava began to move under our feet, and then beat a retreat to face the sulphur again, for it was better to be smothered to death than slowly roasted. [Illustration: CONE “NUMBER SEVEN”--IT WAS ABOUT TWO HUNDRED FEET HIGH, A MINIATURE VOLCANO, SPOUTING RED-HOT LAVA AND GIANT BOULDERS WITH A ROAR THAT COULD BE HEARD FOR MILES. _From a Photograph._]