“O FATHER!” cried little Will Brown, suddenly resting from his weary toil over the rough lava. “Do you see those great white clouds rising from the ground! I do believe we are almost there.”
“I think you are right,” replied his father, “and in another half hour we shall stand by the famous Geysers.”
Willie’s eyes sparkled. “I have thought about them so much,” said he, “but I never dreamed when I was studying Iceland in my old geography last winter that I should be here so soon. How very kind you are to take me!” Mr. Brown looked down upon the fair-haired, motherless boy. “You’re a good little traveling companion,” he said.
“Yes, I’ll say that for him,” exclaimed one of the guides. “I expected the child would be a great trouble, but I haven’t heard a whimper. He’s a brave traveler.”
Will looked up with a pleased smile, and said, “But I wouldn’t live here for anything, Father, though there are so many strange things to see. It seems as if something terrible was going on under the ground, and as if any time all Iceland might blow right up in the air like a great rocket. I’m sure last night I heard a very strange noise, and the ground shook as if someone had told it a terrible secret, and it was all in a tremble about it.”
Mr. Brown smiled. “Oh, I think Iceland is safe for today, Will. You know the people say it is the very best land the sun shines upon, and don’t you think God is able to preserve it amidst every peril?”
“Yes, Father, I do believe God takes care of this country, for I read in my Bible this morning, ‘He toucheth the hills, and they smoke.” (Psa. 104:3232He looketh on the earth, and it trembleth: he toucheth the hills, and they smoke. (Psalm 104:32)), and I couldn’t help thinking that He must have touched Iceland very often.”
Before his father could reply, a strange but intelligent-looking boy, three or four years older than Will, stood before them as suddenly as if he had risen out of the ground. The guides spoke angrily to him, but the boy walked fearlessly up to Mr. Brown who was the foremost of the party.
“Mads Jagel,” said he, pointing to himself by way of introduction. Then in very broken English he offered his services in showing them up the great steam-fountains.
“Don’t have anything to do with him, sir,” said the guides impatiently. “He’s a bad, ill-tempered boy and will make mischief if he joins us,” but Mads looked so imploringly that Will began to plead in his favor with such good success, that at last Mr. Brown said, “Well, let the lad go with us. He certainly needs help, poor fellow, and I will gladly pay him whatever he earns.”
With a grateful look at Mr. Brown, and an equally vivid glance of triumph at the discomfited guides, ragged little Mads journeyed on by the side of Willie.
Before long the whole party stood in wonder and awe before the mysterious Geysers, and as the ground shook and moaned and suddenly sent forth a column of steam more than a hundred feet high, Will trembled. He grasped his father’s hand, and wondered if it was anything like the strange pillar of cloud that used to go before the children of Israel.
But Mads was particularly lively when they came to the fountain called Stroke, or the Churn. It was very quiet when they first arrived, and did not seem disposed to offer any salute. But Mads bustled about with a very knowing look, gathering quantities of moss and stones, which he threw into the tunnel. Immediately there was a loud trembling, as if the old churn were in a great passion at the insult. Soon a grand column rose in the air, throwing out all the rubbish in high indignation.
Will could not help clapping his hands with a shrill hurray, although there was something quite frightful in the demonstration, and Mads fairly rolled on the ground in ecstasies.
The next morning, as the travelers continued their journey, at Will’s earnest request Mads and his dog Skal accompanied them. The country was very desolate, with here and there a tree no larger than a lilac bush, but Mads and Will enlivened the way with a conversation helped out by a variety of expressive gestures. Mads was full of the wonders of Iceland, and he told Will many queer stories, how from the mountain of Hecla great streams of fire rushed and rolled over everything, burning houses and people, and sometimes drinking up the whole river.
Will’s eyes grew large as he listened to the wonderful stories, but soon he saw for himself something stranger than he had ever dreamed in his worst nightmares. They were just upon the edge of a precipice, and looking over, they saw at its base five or six great caldrons of some thick black fluid, boiling and steaming away with a terrible noise.
“What is it?” cried Will, clasping his father’s hand, and turning quite pale.
“It is boiling mud, sir,” said one of the guides, “and if any one falls in there, he will never come out again.”
Dear reader, does this not remind us of another terrible pit, the lake of fire, out of which no one ever comes? The Word of God tells us that in that day of judgment “whoever was not found written in the book of life was cast into the lake of fire” (Rev. 20:1515And whosoever was not found written in the book of life was cast into the lake of fire. (Revelation 20:15)), forever and ever. Oh, make sure your name is written there, as having taken the Lord Jesus as your Saviour!
Just then Skal, who had been playing about Will’s feet, stepped on a loose stone which rolled over, and before any one could help him, the poor dog had tumbled over the precipice with a fearful howl of terror. Down, down he fell into one of the horrible pits, and as Will bent over, he could just see the hot black paste closing over his bushy tail. With a cry of horror, he buried his face in his hands, but a sharp clutch upon his arm made him look up to Mads, whose two eyes were burning like fire in the midst of his white face.
(To be continued)
ML-01/09/1966