By the next day we had forgotten all our sufferings. At first, I was wondering that I was no longer thirsty, and I was for asking for the reason. The answer came in the murmuring of the stream at my feet.  
We breakfasted, and drank of this excellent chalybeate water. I felt wonderfully stronger, and quite upon pushing on. Why should not so firmly convinced a man as my uncle, furnished with so a guide as Hans, and accompanied by so a nephew as myself, go on to final success? Such were the magnificent plans which struggled for mastery within me. If it had been proposed to me to return to the summit of Snæfell, I should have indignantly declined.
 
Most fortunately, all we had to do was to .
 
"Let us start!" I cried, by my shouts the echoes of the hollows of the earth.
 
On Thursday, at 8 a.m., we started afresh. The tunnel from side to side, earned us past unexpected turns, and seemed almost to form a ; but, on the whole, its direction seemed to be south-easterly. My uncle never ceased to consult his compass, to keep account of the ground gone over.
 
The gallery dipped down a very little way from the horizontal, scarcely more than two inches in a , and the stream ran gently murmuring at our feet. I compared it to a friendly genius guiding us underground, and with my hand the soft naiad, whose comforting voice accompanied our steps. With my reviving spirits these notions seemed to come unbidden.
 
As for my uncle, he was beginning to storm against the horizontal road. He loved nothing better than a path; but this way seemed indefinitely prolonged, and instead of sliding along the hypothenuse as we were now doing, he would willingly have dropped down the terrestrial . But there was no help for it, and as long as we were approaching the centre at all we felt that we must not complain.
 
From time to time, a steeper path appeared; our naiad then began to tumble before us with a , and we went down with her to a greater depth.
 
On the whole, that day and the next we made considerable way horizontally, very little .
 
On Friday evening, the 10th of July, according to our calculations, we were thirty leagues south-east of Rejkiavik, and at a depth of two leagues and a half.
 
At our feet there now opened a abyss. My uncle, however, was not to be , and he clapped his hands at the steepness of the descent.
 
"This will take us a long way," he cried, "and without much difficulty; for the in the rock form quite a staircase."
 
The ropes were so fastened by Hans as to guard against accident, and the descent commenced. I can hardly call it , for I was beginning to be familiar with this kind of exercise.
 
This well, or abyss, was a narrow in the mass of the granite, called by a 'fault,' and caused by the unequal cooling of the globe of the earth. If it had at one time been a passage for eruptive matter thrown out by Snæfell, I still could not understand why no trace was left of its passage. We kept going down a kind............