seventeen minutes past twelve
This was a matter for serious consideration . The next day was Tuesday , the 30th of June -- and at six o'clock in the morning we resumed our journey . We still continued to follow the gallery of lava , a perfect natural pathway , as easy of descent as some of those inclined planes which , in very old German houses , serve the purpose of staircases . This went on until seventeen minutes past twelve , the precise instant at which we rejoined Hans , who , having been somewhat in advance , had suddenly stopped . `` At last , '' cried my uncle , `` we have reached the end of the shaft . '' I looked wonderingly about me . We were in the centre of four cross paths -- somber and narrow tunnels .