62 Historical 



The next morning, Gros and his six companions set out again: 



We walked one behind the other, our alpenstocks in our hands. . . . 

 We proceeded very slowly, and were forced to stop every fifteen paces 

 to get our breath. The flask of sweetened water was very useful to me; 

 for being obliged to breathe with my mouth open, my throat became 

 so dry that it was painful. (P. 53.) 



At 9 o'clock, we had reached the Pico del Fraile. . . . Our guides 

 through superstitious fear refused to go on ... . The oppression which 

 I felt was less severe than I had feared, and my pulse rate was only 120 

 per minute. (P. 54.) 



The travellers continued their journey alone, finding the in- 

 struments which they had to carry "terribly heavy." To get a rest, 

 they ate lunch: 



But only a little; it would be unwise at this height to eat a little 

 too much or to drink any alcoholic liquor, for the nervous system is 

 excited thereby inconceivably. (P. 55.) . . . 



At noon, we had reached the summit of perpendicular rocks; but 

 our strength began to fail, and every 10 paces we were forced to make 

 a long pause to breathe and to permit the circulation of the blood to 

 grow somewhat slower. 



We had to shout to be heard at a distance of twenty paces. The 

 air is so thin at this height, that I tried in vain to whistle, and M. Eger- 

 ton had great difficulty in drawing a few notes from a cornet which he 

 had brought with him. 



At half past two, M. de Geroult was on the highest point of the 

 volcano. He leaped with joy. (P. 57.) 



We were exhausted. I had a violent headache and a strong pres- 

 sure on the temples; my pulse rate was 145 per minute, and 108 after 

 I had rested a little; but I felt hardly more distress than on Pico del 

 Fraile. All four of us were frightfully pale; our lips were a livid blue, 

 and our eyes were sunken in their orbits; and so, when we were rest- 

 ing on the rocks, our arms above our heads, or when we were lying on 

 the sand, with our eyes closed and our mouths open, and under our 

 crape masks so that we could breathe more easily, we looked like 

 corpses .... We saw three crows fly 200 feet above us. (P. 67.) .... 



A great many attempts have been made to ascend to the summit 

 of the volcano; almost all have failed for different reasons. Some 

 travellers, when they had reached a certain height, vomited blood, 

 which compelled them to give up their undertaking. However, in 1825 

 and 1830, some Englishmen reached the crater. M. W. Glennie is the 

 first, I think, to have seen it. (P. 68.) 



The travellers went down again and passed the night in the 

 same place as the night before: 



We were too tired and especially too excited to sleep well. When I 

 was awake, I could talk of nothing but the crater, and if I succeeded 

 in getting to sleep, I was climbing up there all over again, the oppres- 

 sion came on again, and I was awakened with a start. (P. 64.) 



