Saw-Toothed Waves Of Lava Vexed The Surface Of This Weird
Ocean, While On Either Hand Arose Jagged Crests And Spiracles Of
Fantastic Shape.
Our way led on past a bottomless pit and along and
over the main stream of the latest lava-flow for seven miles.
At the lower end of the crater was our camping spot, in a small
grove of olapa and kolea trees, tucked away in a corner of the
crater at the base of walls that rose perpendicularly fifteen
hundred feet. Here was pasturage for the horses, but no water, and
first we turned aside and picked our way across a mile of lava to a
known water-hole in a crevice in the crater-wall. The water-hole
was empty. But on climbing fifty feet up the crevice, a pool was
found containing half a dozen barrels of water. A pail was carried
up, and soon a steady stream of the precious liquid was running down
the rock and filling the lower pool, while the cow-boys below were
busy fighting the horses back, for there was room for one only to
drink at a time. Then it was on to camp at the foot of the wall, up
which herds of wild goats scrambled and blatted, while the tent
arose to the sound of rifle-firing. Jerked beef, hard poi, and
broiled kid were the menu. Over the crest of the crater, just above
our heads, rolled a sea of clouds, driven on by Ukiukiu.
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