To be honest, everything had been going surprisingly well. I really had no right to complain. If our difficulties did not become worse, there was still a chance that we might reach the end of our journey.
And if we did, what glory we would have!
Filled with new excitement, I began speaking enthusiastically to my uncle.
But even I could not tell whether I was being serious. Our whole existence had become so strange and unreal that I hardly knew what to think anymore.
For several days after our last stop, the tunnel grew steeper and steeper. Some slopes were terrifyingly steep, almost vertical. We seemed to be constantly descending deeper into the solid heart of the earth.
For several days, we went down as much as a mile and a half, sometimes even two miles, toward the center of the earth.
The descents were dangerous enough, and during them we came to appreciate Hans more than ever.
Without him, we would have been completely helpless.
Our quiet Icelandic guide handled every dangerous situation with unbelievable calm. He never seemed nervous or frightened. He simply did what had to be done, and because of him we managed to cross many places where we would certainly have become trapped without his help.
Hans also became quieter with every passing day.
I think his silence began to affect all of us.
The things around us can have a powerful effect on the human mind. A person locked inside four walls for a long time may gradually lose the ability to think clearly and communicate normally.
How many people have gone insane after being kept in solitary confinement, simply because their minds had been deprived of normal activity and human contact?
For the next two weeks after our last serious conversation, nothing happened that seemed important enough to record.
Even now, while writing down these memories, I have searched my mind in vain for a single interesting event from that period.
But what happened next was truly terrible.
Even today, remembering it makes me shudder and sends a chill through my entire body.
It happened on August 7.
By then, our endless descent had carried us about thirty leagues into the earth. That meant that nearly a hundred miles of rock lay above our heads, along with oceans, continents, cities, and all the people living on the surface.
We were traveling southeast, about two hundred leagues from Iceland.
On that particular day, the tunnel had finally begun to level out.
I happened to be walking ahead of the others.
My uncle carried one of the Ruhmkorff lamps, while I carried the other. Its light allowed me to examine the different layers of granite along the walls.
I was so absorbed in my work that I completely forgot about everything else.
Then I suddenly stopped and turned around.
I was alone.
“Well,” I thought, “I must have walked too fast. Perhaps Uncle and Hans stopped to rest.”
“The best thing to do is go back and find them. Fortunately, the tunnel isn’t very steep here.”
So I turned around and walked back.
I walked for at least fifteen minutes.
Then I began to feel uneasy.
I stopped and looked around carefully.
No one was there.
I called out.
There was no answer.
My voice disappeared into the countless echoes of the enormous cavern.
For the first time, I became truly frightened.
A cold shiver ran through my body, and icy sweat broke out across my skin.
“I must stay calm,” I said aloud.
I spoke to myself the way a boy might whistle when he is afraid, simply to convince himself that everything is fine.
“There is no doubt that I will find them. There is only one road. I must have gotten too far ahead. All I have to do is go back.”
With that thought in mind, I started walking upward.
For at least half an hour, I climbed through the tunnel. But I could no longer tell whether I recognized any of the places I passed.
Every now and then I stopped and listened carefully.
Perhaps they were calling for me.
Because of the strange, dense atmosphere underground, sound could travel a great distance.
But I heard nothing.
The enormous tunnel was completely silent.
The only sound was the echo of my own footsteps.
At last, I stopped again.
I could hardly accept the fact that I was completely alone.
I was willing to believe that I had simply made a mistake.
But I could not accept the possibility that I was lost.
If I had only made a mistake, I could still find my way back.
But if I was truly lost…
I could barely bear to think about it.
“Come on,” I told myself. “There is only one road. They have to come this way sooner or later. If I keep going upward, we will meet again.”
“Perhaps they didn’t see me and forgot that I was ahead. Maybe they turned around to look for me.”
“And even if that happened, I can still catch up with them if I hurry.”
“There is nothing to worry about.”
But even as I said those words aloud, I knew I was not really convinced.
My thoughts had become strangely slow.
Even putting these simple ideas together and turning them into a logical explanation seemed to take an enormous effort. My mind could no longer think normally.
Then another frightening thought entered my head.
What if I had not actually been ahead of them?
Of course I had been.
Hans must have been behind me, with my uncle somewhere between us.
Then I suddenly remembered something clearly.
My uncle had stopped for a moment to tighten the straps holding his baggage to his shoulder.
I remembered that little detail.
It must have been at exactly that moment that I decided to continue ahead without waiting.
“Yes,” I thought, trying to remain calm, “there is another way to make sure I don’t lose my way.”
“I have a guide through this underground maze.”
“The river!”
The thought immediately lifted my spirits.
I decided to continue without wasting another moment.
There was no time to lose.
At that moment, I had every reason to be grateful for my uncle’s earlier wisdom.
He had refused to let the eider hunter block the opening of the hot spring—the tiny crack in the huge mass of granite.
That spring had saved us from thirst for so many days.
Now I believed it would save me again by leading me back to the correct path.
Before starting upward, I decided to wash my face and hands. It would surely make me feel better.
I stopped and plunged my hands and forehead into the cool, pleasant water of the Hansbach.
The sight and touch of that little stream gave me a sense of comfort.
But then—
I froze in horror.
The river was gone.
I was standing on nothing but a hard, dry, dusty path covered with loose pieces of granite.
The Hansbach stream, which I had trusted to guide me home, had completely disappeared.