LG The Mountaineer 
darkness. Resounding in our ears a wild, baffled, awful roar 
of rage from the very entranee itself. Under our feet we heard 
and felt the rocks as they went plunging back into the yellow 
heated cauldron from which they had only been partially 
ejected. It was all so utterly unexpected, so sudden, without 
any warning, that we heartily wished ourselves well out of it. 
Photograph by Charles Albertson 
Smoke, steam and gases erupting from ASama Yama. Column of vapors 
three-fourths of a mile above the crater 
The smoke cleared away and our tremulous nerves quieted 
down. Then the first thing to do was to see where all the grew- 
some fun came from, so we made for the edge of the crater. 
The top for a very short distance around the great, yawning, 
eireular hole is fairly flat and is one mass of rocks and lava 
completely filled in with ashes. It is therefore very porous, 
hollow sounding, and not well built to resist pressure. Standing 
on such material we looked over into the uncertain pit. The 
sides were straight up and down and we drew back in horror. 
We had little faith in the unstable ground we stood on. Far, 
far below we clearly heard the Devil’s awful kettle boiling, 
slowly boiling, boiling rocks, boiling the foundations of the 
earth, boiling the things we considered indestructible. Our 
ideas of the permanency of things changed. It was not a 
vigorous boiling, but gave a definite feeling of power, slow 
