“Bless my bath robe!” cried the odd man.  “You’re as cool about it, Tom, as though you were just in an ordinary race, at an aeroplane meet.”

“And why shouldn’t I be?” asked our hero with a laugh, as he stopped the mechanism of the camera until he should have a clearer view of the volcano.  “There’s not much danger up here, but I want to get some views from the level, later, and then—­”

“You don’t get me down there!” interrupted Mr. Nestor, with a grim laugh.

They were now hovering over the volcano, but high enough up so that none of the great stones that were being thrown out could reach them.  The column of black smoke, amid which could be seen the gleams of the molten fires in the crater, rolled toward them, and the smell of sulphur became stronger.

But when, in accordance with Tom’s suggestion, the airship had been sent over to one side, they were clear of the vapor and the noxious gas.  Then, too, a better view could be had of the volcano below them.

“Hold her down!” cried Tom, as he got in a good position, and the propellers were slowed down so that they just overcame the influence of a slight wind.  Thus the Flyer hovered in the air, while below her the volcano belched forth red-hot rocks, some of them immense in size, and quantities of hot ashes and cinders.  Tom had the camera going again now, and there was every prospect of getting a startling and wonderful, as well as rare series of moving pictures.

“Wow!  That was a big one!” cried Ned, as an unusually large mass of rocks was thrown out, and the column of fire and smoke ascended nearly to the hovering craft.  A moment later came an explosion, louder than any that had preceded.  “We’d better be going up; hadn’t we Tom?” his chum asked.

“A little, yes, but not too far.  I want to get as many near views as I can.”

“Bless my overshoes!” gasped Mr. Damon, as he heard Tom say that.  Then he sent some of the vapor from the generating machine into the gas bag, and the Flyer arose slightly.

Ned looked in the direction of the town, but could not see it, on account of the haze.  Then he directed his attention to the terrifying sight below him.

“It’s a good thing it isn’t very near the city,” he said to Tom, who was engaged in watching the automatic apparatus of the camera, to see when he would have to put in a fresh film.  “It wouldn’t take much of this sort of thing to destroy a big city.  But I don’t see any streams of burning lava, such as they always say come out of a volcano.”

“It isn’t time for that yet,” replied Tom.  “The lava comes out last, after the top layer of stones and ashes have been blown out.  They are a sort of stopper to the volcano, I guess, like the cork of a bottle, and, when they’re out of the way, the red-hot melted rock comes out.  Then there’s trouble.  I want to get pictures of that.”

“Well, keep far enough away,” advised Mr. Nestor, who had come forward.  “Don’t take any chances.  I guess your rivals won’t get here in time to take any pictures, for they can’t travel as fast as we did.”