ten in the morning
At length a time came when I ceased to recollect anything -- when all was one awfull hideous , fantastic dream ! At last , on Tuesday , the seventh of the month of July , after crawling on our hands and knees for many hours , more dead than alive , we reached the point of junction between the galleries . I lay like a log , an inert mass of human flesh on the arid lava soil . It was then ten in the morning . Hans and my uncle , leaning against the wall , tried to nibble away at some pieces of biscuit , while deep groans and sighs escaped from my scorched and swollen lips . Then I fell off into a kind of deep lethargy . Presently I felt my uncle approach , and lift me up tenderly in his arms .