04 Volcano Adventure Read Free Page A

stepping and one of these steam jets shot up inside your trousers it was like being boiled alive.
    The falling stones had been cold far down the mountainside. Here they were hot, and if one fell on your shoulder and stayed there for a moment it burned the cloth. Every boy likes to throw stones down a precipice. When Roger picked up a pebble to throw into the volcano he dropped it with a howl and sucked a burned hand.
    The doctor was making a topographical survey of the crater’s edge. Every hump and hollow, every fissure and steam jet, was carefully examined. Figures and facts went down in the notebook.
    The noise was ear-splitting. Compared with that uproar, a steel mill would be as quiet as a cemetery. The fire god was gritting and grinding his teeth, then spitting them out in sky-rockets that flamed up through the gloom to great height, changed as they fell from white-hot to red-hot, and slapped down on the rocks. There they lay, pasty plops of liquid rock slowly congealing into a sort of dough, still glaring red, and sending out a terrific heat.
    The doctor rushed over to one and took a reading with his electric pyrometer. He showed the reading to the boys, 1,100 degrees Centigrade.
    Dr Dan shook his head gravely and pointed up. They understood his warning. These falling puddings were dangerous. They must keep watch above and not get struck by one of them. It was easy to imagine what would happen. One touch of this blazing lava, eleven times as hot as boiling, would set your clothes afire and you would go up in flame like a Roman candle.
    But it was hard to watch both the sky and the ground at the same time. Roger got cross-eyed trying to do it. He wished he were a bird which can look in one direction with one eye and in the opposite direction with the other.
    Suddenly the fog blew away and the sun lit up the dreary waste of grey ash and black lava and made a rainbow in the rising steam. The last ribbons of fog went up like writhing ghosts.
    The volcano men stopped to look at the view. Thousands of feet below lay Japanese villages under thatched roofs, rice paddies like squares on a checkerboard, Shinto temples and pagodas on small hilltops, sparkling streams. Beyond the valleys rose ranges of mountains, blue in the distance. Far to the south was the perfect cone of Fuji. Away to the west gleamed the Japan Sea.
    Splat! A blazing pudding of lava fell within ten feet of them. This was no time to be looking at the view and they went on warily, watching the sky and the ragged ground underfoot.
    The gases made the eyes run with tears and irritated the nose and throat. Sometimes the fumes were suffocating and you just had to stop breathing for a moment and wait for the changeable wind to bring a gust of fresh air.
    Then the breeze carried the gases away and pushed the column of smoke and fire to one side so that they could see down into the crater for the first time. The sight was terrible - and Hal, happening to glance at Dr Dan, saw that his face had changed.
    He was no longer the cool scientist. His jaw was tight, his eyes were staring, as he looked into that awful pit. A terrible fear seemed to be stamped on his face, but still it was not quite like fear. It was a blank expression, a frozen look.
    Hal wondered if the man had lost his senses. He was afraid he might step off into space, and put a hand on his arm. He found the body as rigid as a marble statue.
    The doctor did not look at him, did not seem to know that he existed. He did not move a muscle.
    Hal tried to shake him, but he seemed to have turned into stone. The cheekbones stood out, the neck muscles were tight, the hands were clenched.
    So he stood for two long minutes.
    Then a little colour crept back into the pale cheeks, the arm that Hal was holding relaxed, and the doctor’s eyes moved. He glanced at the hand that gripped his arm and then at Hal and smiled doubtfully, as if wondering why Hal was holding on to him. Hal released his. hold. The doctor pointed to