The Greatest Danger of All

It must be confessed that hitherto things had not gone on so badly, and that I had small reason to complain. If our difficulties became no worse, we might hope to reach our end. And to what a height of scientific glory we should then attain! I had become quite a Liedenbrock in my reasonings; seriously I had. But would this state of things last in the strange place we had come to? Perhaps it might.

I had to admit that things had not gone so badly so far, and I had little reason to complain. If our difficulties grew no worse, we could hope to reach our goal. And what heights of scientific glory we would reach then! I had begun to think just like Liedenbrock. I really had. But would things continue this way in the strange place we had reached? Perhaps they would.

For several days steeper inclines, some even frightfully near to the perpendicular, brought us deeper and deeper into the mass of the interior of the earth. Some days we advanced nearer to the centre by a league and a half, or nearly two leagues. These were perilous descents, in which the skill and marvellous coolness of Hans were invaluable to us. That unimpassioned Icelander devoted himself with incomprehensible deliberation; and, thanks to him, we crossed many a dangerous spot which we should never have cleared alone.

For several days, steep slopes took us deeper and deeper into the earth. Some were frighteningly close to vertical. On some days, we moved a league and a half, or nearly two leagues, closer to the centre. These descents were dangerous, and Hans’s skill and extraordinary calm were invaluable. The unflappable Icelander worked with a deliberation we could hardly understand. Thanks to him, we crossed many dangerous places we could never have passed on our own.

But his habit of silence gained upon him day by day, and was infecting us. External objects produce decided effects upon the brain. A man shut up between four walls soon loses the power to associate words and ideas together. How many prisoners in solitary confinement become idiots, if not mad, for want of exercise for the thinking faculty!

But he grew more silent every day, and his silence was spreading to us. Our surroundings have a definite effect on the brain. A man shut up between four walls soon loses the ability to connect words and ideas. How many prisoners in solitary confinement become mentally impaired, if not insane, because they cannot exercise their minds!

During the fortnight following our last conversation, no incident occurred worthy of being recorded. But I have good reason for remembering one very serious event which took place at this time, and of which I could scarcely now forget the smallest details.

During the two weeks after our last conversation, nothing happened that was worth recording. But I have good reason to remember one very serious event from that time. Even now, I can hardly forget the smallest details of it.

By the 7th of August our successive descents had brought us to a depth of thirty leagues; that is, that for a space of thirty leagues there were over our heads solid beds of rock, ocean, continents, and towns. We must have been two hundred leagues from Iceland.

By August 7, we had descended to a depth of thirty leagues. That meant thirty leagues of solid rock, ocean, continents, and towns lay above our heads. We must have been two hundred leagues from Iceland.

On that day the tunnel went down a gentle slope. I was ahead of the others. My uncle was carrying one of Ruhmkorff's lamps and I the other. I was examining the beds of granite.

That day, the tunnel sloped gently downward. I was ahead of the others. My uncle carried one of Ruhmkorff's lamps, and I carried the other. I was examining the layers of granite.

Suddenly turning round I observed that I was alone.

I suddenly turned around and saw that I was alone.

Well, well, I thought; I have been going too fast, or Hans and my uncle have stopped on the way. Come, this won't do; I must join them. Fortunately there is not much of an ascent.

Well, well, I thought, I have been going too fast, or Hans and my uncle have stopped along the way. This won't do. I must catch up with them. Fortunately, the climb isn't very steep.

I retraced my steps. I walked for a quarter of an hour. I gazed into the darkness. I shouted. No reply: my voice was lost in the midst of the cavernous echoes which alone replied to my call.

I went back the way I had come. I walked for fifteen minutes. I stared into the darkness. I shouted. There was no answer. My voice was lost among the cavernous echoes, the only reply to my call.

I began to feel uneasy. A shudder ran through me.

I began to feel uneasy. I shivered.

"Calmly!" I said aloud to myself, "I am sure to find my companions again. There are not two roads. I was too far ahead. I will return!"

"Stay calm!" I said aloud to myself. "I'm sure I'll find my companions again. There's only one path. I went too far ahead. I'll go back!"

For half an hour I climbed up. I listened for a call, and in that dense atmosphere a voice could reach very far. But there was a dreary silence in all that long gallery. I stopped. I could not believe that I was lost. I was only bewildered for a time, not lost. I was sure I should find my way again.

For half an hour, I climbed upward. I listened for someone to call out. In the dense air, a voice could carry a long way. But the whole long passage was filled with a gloomy silence. I stopped. I could not believe I was lost. I was only confused for a while, not lost. I was sure I would find my way again.

"Come," I repeated, "since there is but one road, and they are on it, I must find them again. I have but to ascend still. Unless, indeed, missing me, and supposing me to be behind, they too should have gone back. But even in this case I have only to make the greater haste. I shall find them, I am sure."

"Come on," I repeated, "there is only one path, and they are on it, so I must find them again. I just have to keep climbing. Unless they missed me, thought I was behind them, and went back too. But even then, I just have to hurry all the more. I'm sure I'll find them."

I repeated these words in the fainter tones of a half-convinced man. Besides, to associate even such simple ideas with words, and reason with them, was a work of time.

I repeated these words more quietly, sounding only half convinced. Besides, even connecting such simple ideas with words and reasoning about them took time.

A doubt then seized upon me. Was I indeed in advance when we became separated? Yes, to be sure I was. Hans was after me, preceding my uncle. He had even stopped for a while to strap his baggage better over his shoulders. I could remember this little incident. It was at that very moment that I must have gone on.

Then a doubt seized me. Had I really been ahead when we got separated? Yes, of course I had. Hans was behind me, with my uncle behind him. Hans had even stopped for a while to secure the baggage on his shoulders. I could remember that small incident. That must have been the moment when I went on.

Besides, I thought, have not I a guarantee that I shall not lose my way, a clue in the labyrinth, that cannot be broken, my faithful stream? I have but to trace it back, and I must come upon them.

Besides, I thought, wasn't my faithful stream a guarantee that I wouldn't lose my way? It was an unbreakable guide through the maze. I only had to follow it back, and I would find them.

This conclusion revived my spirits, and I resolved to resume my march without loss of time.

This conclusion lifted my spirits, and I decided to continue my journey right away.

How I then blessed my uncle's foresight in preventing the hunter from stopping up the hole in the granite. This beneficent spring, after having satisfied our thirst on the road, would now be my guide among the windings of the terrestrial crust.

How grateful I was for my uncle's foresight in stopping the hunter from plugging the hole in the granite. The helpful spring had satisfied our thirst on the journey. Now it would guide me through the winding passages of the earth's crust.

Before starting afresh I thought a wash would do me good. I stooped to bathe my face in the Hansbach.

Before starting again, I thought a wash would do me good. I bent down to wash my face in the Hansbach.

To my stupefaction and utter dismay my feet trod only—the rough dry granite. The stream was no longer at my feet.

To my shock and utter dismay, my feet touched only rough, dry granite. The stream was no longer at my feet.