On landing, the boys and the professor lost no time in making inquiries concerning the road to Basse Pointe. They were told that it ran along the shore, past Grand Anse, another village, also deserted. There were a number of bridges to cross, and whether these were in good condition nobody could tell. “This is getting more risky,” observed the professor, but at that moment a black man came up who could speak English, and he offered to guide them to any point they wished to go providing they would pay him a sum equal to five dollars per day,--this amount being a small fortune to the fellow. “We’ll take you up, Gambo,” said the professor. “Let us start at once.” And they set off, each carrying some food with him, for there was no telling what desolation lay in store for them. Gambo was a bright, intelligent fellow, and under his guidance they made rapid progress. By nightfall they reached Grand Anse, to find it covered with volcanic dust and stones. Only four natives had remained there, and they said they were going to depart as soon as a certain boat came back for them. They asked Gambo about the Americans, and then said they had seen some other Americans up in the mountains, the day before the awful eruption. “They must have been Mark’s father and mine!” cried Frank, excitedly. “Ask them where they went to?” Gambo did so. The reply was uncertain. The Americans had been at a small settlement called Frodamalos but where they had gone after that was not known. “Where is Frodamalos?” questioned Professor Strong. “Up the mountainside,” answered Gambo. “It is close to Pelee.” “I don’t care--I’m going anyway,” said Frank. “I don’t believe we are going to have any more eruptions--at least, not right away.” Again there was a conference, but in the end the professor yielded, and they went forward towards the interior of Martinique. The lofty height of Mont Pelee was before them, still crowned with black smoke and many-colored vapor. The mighty giant was resting, preparatory to a greater exhibition of strength. The evidences of the fearful eruption were more and more pronounced as they advanced. Down near the shore the vegetation had been only dust covered, here it was literally burnt up. The trees were stripped bare, leaving only the black trunks standing. The ground was cracked in a thousand places, while here and there were large deposits of mud and lava, twisted and turned into all sorts of curious shapes. Occasionally they passed the bones of some animal, and in one spot they came upon the partly consumed bodies of two natives who had died locked in each other’s arms. At the sight of the dead natives Gambo fell upon his knees in horror. Then of a sudden he leaped up, turned, and fled in the direction from whence he had come, running as if a legion of demons were at his heels.