were over our heads solid beds of rock, ocean, continents, and towns. We must have been two hundred leagues from Iceland.
On that day the tunnel went down a gentle slope. I was ahead of the others. My uncle was carrying one of Ruhmkorff’s lamps and I the other. I was examining the beds of granite.
Suddenly turning round I observed that I was alone.
Well, well, I thought; I have been going too fast, or Hans and my uncle have stopped on the way. Come, this won’t do; I must join them. Fortunately there is not much of an ascent.
I retraced my steps. I walked for a quarter of an hour. I gazed into the darkness. I shouted. No reply: my voice was lost in the midst of the cavernous echoes which alone replied to my call.
I began to feel uneasy. A shudder ran through me.
“Calmly!” I said aloud to myself, “I am sure to find my companions again. There are not two roads. I was too far ahead. I will return!”
For half an hour I climbed up. I listened for a call, and in that dense atmosphere a voice could reach very far. But there was a dreary silence in all that long gallery. I stopped. I could not believe that I was lost. I was only bewildered for a time, not lost. I was sure I should find my way again.
“Come,” I repeated, “since there is but one road, and they are on it, I must find them again. I have but to ascend still. Unless, indeed, missing me, and supposing me to be behind, they too should have gone back. But even in this case I have only to make the greater haste. I shall find them, I am sure.”
I repeated these words in the fainter tones of a half-convinced man. Besides, to associate even such simple ideas with words, and reason with