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At the Earth's Core | Edgar Rice Burroughs | |
Toward The Eternal Fires |
Page 5 of 6 |
"What are the readings now, David?" Perry's voice broke in upon my somber reflections. "Ninety miles and 153 degrees," I replied. "Gad, but we've knocked that thirty-mile-crust theory into a cocked hat!" he cried gleefully. "Precious lot of good it will do us," I growled back. "But my boy," he continued, "doesn't that temperature reading mean anything to you? Why it hasn't gone up in six miles. Think of it, son!" "Yes, I'm thinking of it," I answered; "but what difference will it make when our air supply is exhausted whether the temperature is 153 degrees or 153,000? We'll be just as dead, and no one will know the difference, anyhow." But I must admit that for some unaccountable reason the stationary temperature did renew my waning hope. What I hoped for I could not have explained, nor did I try. The very fact, as Perry took pains to explain, of the blasting of several very exact and learned scientific hypotheses made it apparent that we could not know what lay before us within the bowels of the earth, and so we might continue to hope for the best, at least until we were dead--when hope would no longer be essential to our happiness. It was very good, and logical reasoning, and so I embraced it. At one hundred miles the temperature had DROPPED TO 152 1/2 DEGREES! When I announced it Perry reached over and hugged me. |
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At the Earth's Core Edgar Rice Burroughs |
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