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Haggard, H. Rider (Henry Rider), 1856-1925

"Allan Quatermain"

'Noticed it!' he answered;
'I should think so. I am in a sort of Turkish bath.' Just about
then the others woke up gasping, and were obliged to begin to
discard their clothes. Here Umslopogaas had the advantage, for
he did not wear any to speak of, except a moocha.
Hotter it grew, and hotter yet, till at last we could scarcely
breathe, and the perspiration poured out of us. Half an hour
more, and though we were all now stark naked, we could hardly
bear it. The place was like an antechamber of the infernal regions
proper. I dipped my hand into the water and drew it out almost
with a cry; it was nearly boiling. We consulted a little thermometer
we had -- the mercury stood at 123 degrees. From the surface
of the water rose a dense cloud of steam. Alphonse groaned out
that we were already in purgatory, which indeed we were, though
not in the sense that he meant it. Sir Henry suggested that
we must be passing near the seat of some underground volcanic
fire, and I am inclined to think, especially in the light of
what subsequently occurred, that he was right. Our sufferings
for some time after this really pass my powers of description.
We no longer perspired, for all the perspiration had been sweated
out of us.


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