When Tom returned, his men were huddled in an awe-struck group, watching the flood of boiling black lava creep closer and closer.
“Sure hope you know what you’re talking about, blaster boy!” Bud muttered anxiously.
At first the terrifying ebony flood channeled itself around the camp. But suddenly part of the main stream branched off and forced a path through the MOLTEN TRIUMPH 203
hummocks. Roiling and boiling, it surged straight down toward the camp!
The men started to scatter in all directions, but Tom’s voice stopped them in their tracks.
“Wait! It’s slowing down! I think we’re safe!”
The heat of the lava was so great now that it was melting deep puddles in the ice. The fuming black mass gradually sank down and buried itself in the gouges, leaving pools of hardened lava all over the landscape.
As the tide of lava subsided, Chow Winkler pulled down his gas mask and mopped his brow.
“Brand my galluses! Watchin’ that stuff roll down on us is like fallin’ off your bronco right smack in front o’ a buffalo stampede!”
“The danger’s over for the time being, but this may not be the last of it,”
warned Tom. “There could be another eruption!”
Several fearful hours crept by as everyone waited and watched for signs of another upheaval. Dr. MacGregor, who had stuck to his post, reported there was no news of disturbances from any other part of the globe.
Finally Tom started back up the slope to the control cave to communicate again with the other listening posts. But part way up, he stopped and slapped his forehead with a groan of dismay.
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