ed, eagerly:

"Death and destruction, and a loss of millions of lira to the bankrupt
government. I know; for I have studied Etna for years, and Vesuvio is a
second cousin to Etna."

"Hm," said Uncle John. "You seem pleased with the idea of an eruption."

The thin faced man threw a shrewd look from his dark eyes and smiled.
Uncle John frowned at the look and stumped away. He was not at all easy
in his own mind. He had brought three nieces for a holiday to this
foreign shore, and here at the outset they were confronted by an
intangible danger that was more fearful because it was not understood.
It was enough to make his round face serious, although he had so strong
an objection to unnecessary worry.

Afternoon tea was served on deck amidst an unusual quiet. People soberly
canvassed the situation and remarked upon the fact that the darkness
increased visibly as they neared the Bay of Naples. Beth couldn't drink
her tea, for tiny black atoms fell through the air and floated upon the
surface of the liquid. Louise retired to her stateroom with a headache,
and found her white serge gown peppered with particles of lava dust
which had fallen from the skies.

The pilot guided the ship cautiously past Capri and into the bay. The
air was now black with volcanic dross and a gloom as of midnight
surrounded them on every side. The shore, the mountain and the water of
the bay itself were alike invisible.

CHAPTER V

VESUVIUS RAMPANT

It was Saturday night, the seventh day of April, nineteen hundred and
six--a night never to be forgotten by those aboard the ship; a night
which has its place in history.

At dinner the captain announced that he had dropped anchor at the
Immacollatella Nuova, but at a safe distance from the shore, and that no
passengers would be landed under any circumstances until the fall of
ashes ceased and he could put his people ashore in a proper manner.

A spirit of unrest fell upon them all. Big Tom Horton whispered to Beth
that he did not intend to leave her side until all danger was over. The
deck was deserted, all the passengers crowding into the smoking room and
saloons to escape the lava dust.

Few kept their rooms or ventured to sleep. At intervals a loud
detonation from the volcano shook the air, and the mystery and awe of
the enveloping gloom were so palpable as almost to be felt.

Toward midnight the wind changed, driving the cloud of ashes to the
southward and sufficiently clearing