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A Journey to the Interior of the Earth

mountains, now extinct volcanoes, but the ruins around revealed the violence of the past
eruptions. Yet here and there were a few jets of steam from hot springs.
We had no time to watch these phenomena; we had to proceed on our way. Soon at the
foot of the mountains the boggy land reappeared, intersected by little lakes. Our route
now lay westward; we had turned the great bay of Faxa, and the twin peaks of Snaefell
rose white into the cloudy sky at the distance of at least five miles.
The horses did their duty well, no difficulties stopped them in their steady career. I was
getting tired; but my uncle was as firm and straight as he was at our first start. I could not
help admiring his persistency, as well as the hunter's, who treated our expedition like a
mere promenade.
June 20. At six p.m. we reached Budir, a village on the sea shore; and the guide there
claiming his due, my uncle settled with him. It was Hans' own family, that is, his uncles
and cousins, who gave us hospitality; we were kindly received, and without taxing too
much the goodness of these folks, I would willingly have tarried here to recruit after my
fatigues. But my uncle, who wanted no recruiting, would not hear of it, and the next
morning we had to bestride our beasts again.
The soil told of the neighbourhood of the mountain, whose granite foundations rose from
the earth like the knotted roots of some huge oak. We were rounding the immense base of
the volcano. The Professor hardly took his eyes off it. He tossed up his arms and seemed
to defy it, and to declare, "There stands the giant that I shall conquer." After about four
hours' walking the horses stopped of their own accord at the door of the priest's house at
Stapi.
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