Page 522 - for-the-term-of-his-natural-life
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black figure would pass across this gigantic furnace-mouth,
stooping and rising, as though feeding the fire. One might
have imagined that a door in Vulcan’s Smithy had been left
inadvertently open, and that the old hero was forging arms
for a demigod.
Blunt turned pale. ‘It’s no mortal,’ he whispered. ‘Let’s
go back.’
‘And what will Madam say?’ returned dare-devil Will
Staples who would have plunged into Mount Erebus had he
been paid for it. Thus appealed to in the name of his ruling
passion, Blunt turned his head, and the boat sped onward.
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