n a jumble of thick blankets, slept his wife and three daughters, warm despite the cold mountain air.

In the distance, the volcano, considered one of the most unpredictable and dangerous in Indonesia, thundered. Lava flowed and volcanic rocks tumbled down its southern slopes, sometimes coming within a kilometer, or six-tenths of a mile, of Darto's small, wood-framed home.

At about two in the morning, the crash of rocks grew louder, startling his wife, Sri Semiyati, awake. With a motion of his hand and a nod of his head, Darto assured her there was no danger.

"I guess it is a heavy responsibility," Darto said. "But I don't think of it like that. This is my family and these are my neighbors, I simply have to protect them."

Earlier in the evening, after a simple dinner of noodles and tea, Darto's wife swept the kitchen, his son tinkered with the engine of his motorbike, and his daughters studied for Monday's final exams. Darto, a tiny man with a big smile, one that rarely leaves his face, sat watching the volcano, drawing on a hand-rolled cigarette.

"Merapi's activity is not that high compared to past years," he said. "But with all the media attention, people are becoming panicked. I think it's been exaggerated."

With that he stood up, his smile quickly departing and his eyes glaring at Merapi. His wife wandered out of the kitchen, his son looked up from his bike and his daughters abandoned their books. Together the family stood in the dirt courtyard, ash heavy in the air, watching to see which way a freshly ejected hot cloud would travel.

It went west, and without a word they all returned to their activities.

"The worst of it is over," Darto said. "Merapi will begin calming down now in the next few weeks."

Scientists, who are often at odds with men like Darto, seem to agree that the danger around Merapi is receding.

Subandriyo, head of the Merapi division of Yogyakarta's Volcanology Center, said the alert level remained high, but could be reduced if activity continues decreasing over the next few days.

Volcanologists have long feared an unstable lava dome, forming around Merapi's peak, could suddenly collapse, sending millions of cubic meters of volcanic rock, lava and hot gas down the mountain's slopes, threatening nearby villages like Kinahrejo.

Last week, however, a large piece of the lava dome slowly began to crumble, triggering a series of small eruptions. Its reduced size is now less of a threat, Subandriyo said.

"We still suggest villagers living in the range of seven kilometers from the top evacuate," he added.

Darto's family, along with about one hundred other families living in this village, about five kilometers from the teetering lava dome, have refused for months now to heed government warnings to evacuate.

Merapi first started showing increased activity April 13.

The villagers believe they know Mount Merapi's character as well as anyone. And so they remain in their ash-covered houses, tending livestock and guarding their homes from looters, lying awake at night, eyes and ears trained on Merapi.

Darto, one of the village elders who residents believe is connected to the spirit world, is entrusted with the task of sounding the alarm in the event of danger, which would most likely arrive in the form of a fast-moving cloud of superheated gas, exceeding temperatures of 280 degrees Celsius (540 Fahrenheit).

One such cloud, which Darto and his family remember well, burned 66 people alive here in 1994.

The villagers must depend on Darto, they said, because the government's alarm, which echoes like an air-raid siren off the valley walls around Merapi, comes too late.

The last time Darto hammered his steel bell, drawing everyone out into the street, was May 15, when numerous hot clouds danced around Merapi's southern and western slopes.

In the street, the villagers quickly assessed the seriousness of the situation and radioed for a flatbed truck to move the elderly, women and children to the safety of refugee camps, two kilometers below, Darto said.

They all returned later that afternoon.

Many of the families living in this village have been here for generations. Fathers and grandfathers taught their sons how to read the signs of a coming eruption. Darto now teaches his 16- year-old son, Mulyadi.

"Most importantly I teach my children to meditate, to exercise their spiritual power, so they will be better in tune with the nature around them," he said.

Although most Javanese are Muslim, many still follow ancient animist beliefs. The kingdom atop Mount Merapi is considered one of the most important symbols in all of Javanese culture.

According to Javanese mythology, history is now entering a time of great torment, a time of darkness and evil. This explains, Darto said, the May 27 earthquake 40 kilometers south of Mount Merapi that killed about 5,800 people and also the 2004 tsunami, which left about 170,000 people dead in Aceh, Indonesia's northern-most province.

Early Sunday evening, Mulyadi rushed into the kitchen to inform his father that the full moon had appeared, a dangerous omen.

Indeed, scientists say the gravitational pull of the moon can disturb the volcano's liquid magma bubbling inside, increasing the chances of an eruption.

Sunday night, however, passed without incident. After morning prayers on Monday, Darto crawled under a blanket beside his daughters and managed a half-hour nap.

"We cannot protect ourselves from death," he later said. "That is God's will. We can only nurture our soul, respect our environment, and pray that God will bless us in return."