Perry was becoming more hopeful, although upon what meager foodhe sustained his optimism I could not conjecture. From cursing hehad turned to singing--I felt that the strain had at last affectedhis mind. For several hours we had not spoken except as he askedme for the readings of the instruments from time to time, andI announced them. My thoughts were filled with vain regrets. Irecalled numerous acts of my past life which I should have beenglad to have had a few more years to live down. There was theaffair in the Latin Commons at Andover when Calhoun and I had putgunpowder in the stove--and nearly killed one of the masters. Andthen--but what was the use, I always was about to die and atone for allthese things and several more. Already the heat was sufficientto give me a foretaste of the hereafter. A few more degrees andI felt that I should lose consciousness.

"What are the readings now, David?" Perry's voice broke in upon mysomber reflections.

"Ninety miles and 153 degrees," I replied.

"Gad, but we've knocked that thirty-mile-crust theory into a cockedhat!" he cried gleefully.