Gorilla Adventure by Willard Price

Author:Willard Price [Price, Willard]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780099183518
Google: JTP9RaQeOH8C
Publisher: Red Fox
Published: 1993-10-15T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 15

The crater

In A Land-Rover and Powerwagon, Hal and Roger with fifteen of their men set out on their dangerous mission.

The dirt road dropped steeply to the village of Kibumba at the foot of Mikeno, then turned left to hug the base of flaming Nyiragongo. Why come so perilously close? There is no network of roads in Africa like those in Europe or America. You go where you must, not where you will. There was no other way to Rumangabo.

They sweated in the heat of the burning mountain. The boiling lava had set fire to the forest. It was a thrilling sight - the blazing mountain two miles high and, spouting from the top of it, another mile of fire carrying up rocks which then fell and tore their way through the burning forest. There was the double thunder, in the sky three miles up and in the volcano itself,

They were so dazzled by the mountain that they failed to watch the road. Suddenly they found themselves crossing a lava river. Fortunately it had cooled a little and turned black. It still sent up great volumes of steam.

Some of the men yelled ‘Stop!’ But Joro, at the wheel of the first car, believed that their only hope was in speed. He could not tell whether the lava was soft or hard. The wheels might sink into it and be glued fast. He would not allow time for that to happen. An instant too long, and the terrific heat that still remained in the lava would blow out the tyres. He shot across as a skater skims over thin ice.

He looked back and was glad to see that the other car was coming just as fast. But there was a third vehicle, a truck full of men, evidently Nero and his gang. The white man himself was at the wheel. His nerve failed him, and he stepped hard on the brake. Perhaps he hoped to stop short of the lava, but the momentum of the heavy truck carried it into the middle of the steaming stream. There it stopped, the wheels sank in, and nothing short of a charge of dynamite would ever tear that truck loose from the clutch of congealing lava.

Hal clapped Joro on the back. ‘Good boy!’ he cried. ‘That will give them time to think things over.’

Joro grinned, but did not accept Hal’s praise. ‘Only trouble is,’ he said, they’ll be there when we come back.’

It was all downhill now to the north end of one of the most beautiful lakes in Africa, Lake Kivu. No wonder they called this the African Riviera. The shore was a carpet of brilliant flowers, and magnificent crested cranes strutted about among the strangest of strange trees, the euphorbia or candelabra, looking like gigantic candle holders thirty feet high.

Now they turned west through the Mitumba Mountains to Rumangabo.

Here they were welcomed by the commandant who had given them their hunting permit.

‘I hope your work is going well,’ he said.

‘A little slowly at first,’ Hal said.

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