The scene is very
grand. At one minute we can see nothing save the black rocks and
cinders under foot; the next the wind-torn mist separates now in one
direction, now in another, showing us always the same wild scene of
great black cliffs, rising in jagged peaks and walls around and
above us. I think this walled cauldron we had just left is really
the highest crater on Mungo. {439}
We soon become anxious about Xenia, for this is a fearfully easy
place to lose a man in such weather, but just as we get below the
thickest part of the pall of mist, I observe a doll-sized figure,
standing on one leg taking on or off its trousers - our lost Xenia,
beyond a shadow of a doubt, and we go down direct to him.
When we reach him we halt, and I give the two men one of the tins of
meat, and take another and the bottle of beer myself, and then make
a hasty sketch of the great crater plain below us. At the further
edge of the plain a great white cloud is coming up from below, which
argues badly for our trip down the great wall to the forest camp,
which I am anxious to reach before nightfall after our experience of
the accommodation afforded by our camp in the crater plain last
night.
