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Hans set about the task which my uncle and I together could not have accomplished. If our impatience had armed our hands with power, we should have shattered the rock into a thousand fragments. Not so Hans. Full of self possession, he calmly wore his way through the rock with a steady succession of light and skilful strokes, working through an aperture six inches wide at the outside. I could hear a louder noise of flowing waters, and I fancied I could feel the delicious fluid refreshing my parched lips. The pick had soon penetrated two feet into the granite partition, and our man had worked for above an hour. I was in an agony of impatience. My uncle wanted to employ stronger measures, and I had some difficulty in dissuading him; still he had just taken a pickaxe in his hand, when a sudden hissing was heard, and a jet of water spurted out with violence against the opposite wall. Hans, almost thrown off his feet by the violence of the shock, uttered a cry of grief and disappointment, of which I soon under-. stood the cause, when plunging my hands into the spouting torrent, I withdrew them in haste, for the water was scalding hot. "The water is at the boiling point," I cried. "Well, never mind, let it cool," my uncle replied. The tunnel was filling with steam, whilst a stream was forming, which by degrees wandered away into subterranean windings, and soon we had the satisfaction of swallowing our first draught. Could anything be more delicious than the sensation that our burning intolerable thirst was passing away, and leaving us to enjoy comfort and pleasure? But where was this water from? No matter. It was water; and though still warm, it brought life back to the dying. I kept drinking without stopping, and almost without tasting. At last after a most delightful time of reviving energy, I cried, "Why, this is a chalybeate spring!" "Nothing could be better for the digestion," said my uncle. "It is highly impregnated with iron. It will be as good for us as going to the Spa, or to Toplitz." "Well, it is delicious!" "Of course it is, water should be, found six miles underground. It has an inky flavour, which is not at all unpleasant. What a capital source of strength Hans has found for us here. We will call it after his name." "Agreed," I cried. And Hansbach it was from that moment. Hans was none the prouder. After a moderate draught, he went quietly into a corner to rest. "Now," I said, "we must not lose this water." "What is the use of troubling ourselves?" my uncle, replied. "I fancy it will never fail." "Never mind, we cannot be sure; let us fill the water bottle and our flasks, and then stop up the opening." My advice was followed so far as getting in a supply; but the stopping up of the hole was not so easy to accomplish. It was in vain that we took up fragments of granite, and stuffed them in with tow, we only scalded our hands without succeeding. The pressure was too great, and our efforts were fruitless. "It is quite plain," said I, "that the higher body of this water is at a considerable elevation. The force of the jet shows that." "No doubt," answered my uncle. "If this column of water is 32,000 feet high--that is, from the surface of the earth, it is equal to the weight of a thousand atmospheres. But I have got an idea." "Well?" "Why should we trouble ourselves to stop the stream from coming out at all?" "Because--" Well, I could not assign a reason. "When our flasks are empty, where shall we fill them again? Can we tell that?" No; there was no certainty. "Well, let us allow the water to run on. It will flow down, and will both guide and refresh us." "That is well planned," I cried. "With this stream for our guide, there is no reason why we should not succeed in our undertaking." "Ah, my boy! you agree with me now," cried the Professor, laughing. "I agree with you most heartily." "Well, let us rest awhile; and then we will start again." I was forgetting that it was night. The chronometer soon informed me of that fact; and in a very short time, refreshed and thankful, we all three fell into a sound sleep.
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A Journey to the Interior of the Earth -by- Jules Verne
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