"And these sulphur fumes came very near causing a horrible death to Fred. We were among the boiling springs, where the greatest precaution was necessary to avoid falling into the pools, as they were only short distances apart, sometimes less than a foot. Our guide had called attention to one of the geyser holes, where the water at the bottom was boiling furiously. Fred was looking into it, when suddenly there rose a puff of sulphur that half stifled him. He sprang backward as he threw his head in the air, and in doing so stepped within three inches of the edge of a pool of water that was quiescent, though almost at the boiling-point. Had he fallen into it he would have been scalded to death in a few moments.
"Accidents of this sort are by no means uncommon. A child of the hotel-keeper fell into a pool a few months ago, and was scalded so badly that it died within an hour. They told how a native woman dropped her baby from her arms; it fell into a pool of scalding water by the side of the path. The woman went in to rescue it, and both mother and child were drowned in the pool. Men, horses, and dogs have fallen into these pools, or more frequently broken through the thin crust that lies above the accumulated hot water or hot mud beneath the surface.
"One Maori village where we stopped is so completely built on a volcanic foundation that the steam rises in every house; and the little open space in the centre, where the village councils are held, is half paved with broad stones, which are all kept warm by steam from the earth. Close to the village are several mud-baths, where one may sit up to his neck in hot mud for hours, and then wash off the adhesive stuff in a neighboring pool. These solfataras, or mud-baths, are very numerous, and in many instances very dangerous. Where they are small the hot mud simply boils and bubbles, and slowly oozes out of the ground; and the chief danger lies in breaking through the crust near them and finding yourself plunged in the scalding mush. The larger solfataras are like the mouth of a well, the mud bubbling up in the centre and forming a ring of dirt that solidifies and offers a good footing, so far as the eye can perceive; but woe betide the unfortunate stranger who ventures to step upon it; the crust gives way, and he will be fortunate if he escapes with his life.
"We reached Rotomahana, the famous little lake of this district, without accident, although it was evening when we got there. We were lodged in a Maori wharry, or house, close to Te Tarata, or The White Terraces, and we had a glimpse of the terraces through the indistinctness of the evening. There were steam and water jets all
