As it was, a moderate increase of temperature was perceptible.
Ashman was tempted to paddle the canoe to the black rocks which separated the chasm from the lake, and he timidly moved the blade, restrained by the fear of something in the nature of a "back draft," which might consume them before they could escape.
Ariel assured him that she had never encountered or heard of anything of the kind, though she had often visited this remarkable region in the company of her father.

Thereupon Ashman sent the boat ahead faster than before, and a minute later the bow touched the rocky wharf.
Stepping out, he drew the bow upon the rocks, so as to hold it fast, and, extending his hand, assisted her to shore.

Then he drew the craft still further up, and, taking her hand again in his own, began picking their way over the jagged bowlders and stones to the edge of the volcano.
From the margin of the lake to the other side of the mass of rocks was a hundred feet.

This may be defined as a solid wall, shutting out the water from the burning mountain.

The rocks rose to a height of a dozen rods or so, attaining which a spectator found himself half-way across the dividing ridge, where, viewed from the lake, his figure looked as if stamped in ink on the crimson background.
It was here that the lovers paused and viewed the striking picture spread out before their vision.
That which they saw might properly be considered the crater of the volcano.