Rick Brant - The Flaming Mountain Part 2

RUIZ, the short, friendly San Luzian, was not dead, but he was only barely alive. Within a half hour he was on his way to the hospital at Calor, crushed and unconscious.

Brad Connel was badly shaken. "I thought he was behind me," the geologist explained. "But he had gone back to check the cap connection. At least, that's what he must have gone back for. I fired, then turned around, and he wasn't there. He was blown fifty feet at least. If only I had checked! But he was there with me, and I just kept my eye on the chronometer. He didn't say anything. He just walked off."

There was nothing much to be said. It was the kind of accident that seems absolutely senseless. Both Connel and Ruiz were old hands with explosives, yet the San Luzian apparently had wandered back to the charge just as it went off.

Rick and Scotty walked toward the hot springs behind the hotel and talked it over.

"Pretty stupid thing for anyone to do," Scotty said soberly.

Rick agreed. "Especially an old hand. Ruiz was supposed to be experienced, but I can't imagine how a veteran could pull a stunt like that."

It made absolutely no sense. Ruiz spoke English. Rick knew that from his conversation with the San Luzian. So he must have known Connel was counting down, getting ready to push the plunger home. Why would he walk into the blast, unless he was tired of living? But he didn't believe Ruiz would try to get himself killed deliberately. The little San Luzian had seemed like a sane, happy individual.

Rick gave up. Maybe when Connel calmed down a little he could shed more light on the accident. "The smell from the springs is getting pretty strong," Scotty remarked.

It certainly was. The wind had been from the hotel toward the hot springs most of the day, and the odor hadn't been bad. Now, in the vicinity of the springs, it was making Rick's eyes water and his nose smart.

"Think we can get close enough for a look?" Rick asked.

"We can try. There's the building ahead."

A cement walk led from the hotel to the springs, rising up a gradual incline that was not too steep for wheel chairs, or for the elderly. The boys had heard that many invalids had come here, to bathe in the hot springs, to drink the mineral water, and to soak in warm mud.

"How'd you like a nice hot mud bath?" Rick asked.

Scotty grinned. "Can't say it appeals to me, but there must be something to it. There are mud baths and hot springs in Europe, too. With plenty of customers."

Rick took out his handkerchief and dried eyes that were watering from the fumes. He doubted that the gases were good for them, but he was curious. He wanted to see where the volcano would blow its top, if it was going to.

In spite of the irritating fumes, they persisted and got a quick look at the former health area. There was a series of pools for bathers, ranging from big ones for large groups to individual tublike affairs, all nicely tiled. There was one area of mud baths. Rick had an impression of two areas, one of bubbling mud, the other of steaming water. It was enough. The boys turned and got out of there.

Back at the hotel, the scientists were working. All were present, except for Brad Connel, who had asked to be excused. He was in his room, apparently still badly upset over the accident.

Dr. Jeffrey Williams had obtained a large sheet of paper and had sketched an outline of the volcano and the earth under it as seen in cross section. As Hartson Brant read off data from the day's tracings, Dr. Williams plotted points far underground. Now and then he connected points, or put in a light line.

Rick and Scotty watched with interest. The tracings meant nothing to them; a.n.a.lysis was a job for trained scientists. But Dr. Williams was slowly producing a picture on the paper.

"That's all," Hartson Brant said finally. "How does it look, Jeff?"

The seismologist shook his head. "Not good." He held his pencil almost flat to the paper and began shading in an area bounded by the points he had made. "According to what we have, this is the shape of a magma front." He drew in other lines, rising vertically through the earth into the volcano. "Apparently these discontinuities indicate old channels, now filled in. Notice that the magma is not following the original channels. This seems to confirm what Esteben has been telling us."

The volcanologist nodded. "It seems to. Jeff, do you have any doubt about this area being magma?"

"I'm afraid not. The data fits. Of course it's still pretty far below the surface."

Rick could see that the ominous shading was nearly twice as far underground as the top of the volcano was above sea level.

Julius Weiss spoke up. "The next step is to find out how fast the magma is rising."

"A series of shots every day for the next few days should tell us that," Hartson Brant agreed. "Hobart, you've been pretty quiet. Any comments?"

"None of any importance," the big physicist boomed. "Only this: what can we possibly do about a situation like this?"

Hartson Brant shrugged. "I don't know. At least we can keep track of the magma."

David Riddle, the geologist, added, "It will allow time to warn the population. I can see no other means of saving them except to get them off the island."

Rick had reached the same conclusion. It didn't take a scientist to realize the gravity of the situation. El Viejo was getting ready for something big, unless the magma subsided. Since no one was really sure about the physics of volcanology, no one had a good guess why the volcanic action had begun again. No one could be sure it would not decrease, either.

"This picture is pretty rough," Dr. Williams said. "I'll refine it a little after dinner, Hartson. It will give us a better basis for plotting tomorrow's results."

"Good idea," Hartson Brant agreed. "And speaking of dinner, it's about time. Let's wash up and meet in the dining room in a half hour."

"Better call Brad Connel," Zircon said. "I know how upset he must be, but it will be better if he joins us and eats something."

Rick and Scotty returned to their room and washed for dinner. Both were quiet. The appearance of the magma under them, almost like a mushroom cloud in shape, was pretty ominous. Like sitting on a volcano, Rick thought. It was the most appropriate expression he could think of. No wonder the earth had split.

Scotty mused aloud. "Rock. Melting like b.u.t.ter on a stove. Thousands of tons of it. Makes you appreciate natural forces, doesn't it?"

"Even hydrogen bombs are pretty feeble by comparison," Rick agreed. "It makes me uneasy to think of all that stuff boiling up under us."

"I caught myself looking down a couple of times," Scotty said with a grin. "I wouldn't be surprised to see steam coming up through the rug."

Rick consulted his watch. "Maybe food will make us feel better. Come on. It's about time."

The scientific party was alone in the hotel, except for a reduced staff. The governor had made arrangements for the hotel to operate so that the visitors could have service. Rick almost wished they had stayed at a beach hotel with other people around them. The huge resort was like an abandoned city, with a few ghosts left in it.

They walked through the conference room on their way into dinner and found Connel looking over the sketch Williams had made. He looked up as they entered and greeted them casually.

"h.e.l.lo, Rick, Scotty. I see we do have magma below us."

"That's what Dr. Williams said," Rick agreed. "How do you feel, Mr. Connel?"

The geologist shrugged. "How can I feel? Ruiz was-is-a nice little guy. I still don't know what happened, why he should walk back to the charge. I was concentrating on getting the charge off on time, and there was no reason for him to go back."

"You said he went to check the cap connection," Scotty reminded.

"It's the only reason I can think of, and it isn't a very good one. He made the connection himself. Maybe he wanted another quick look."

The geologist transferred his attention back to the sketch. "The stuff is still pretty far down. Good thing, too. That will give time for evacuating the island. We've probably got several months yet."

The subject wasn't brought up during dinner, but over coffee Esteben Balgos commented, "We must keep the governor informed. Jeff, if you will lend me your sketch, I'll take it to the Executive Mansion first thing in the morning and bring it back before we begin shooting. I think the governor will want to start planning for evacuation, if he has not yet done so."

Williams nodded. "Help yourself, Esteben. I'll probably have the sketch in my room. Knock on the door in the morning if you want it."

The talk turned to heat-transfer mechanisms in the earth, and from there to the whole problem of solar-energy input and outflow. The subject was not one in which Rick had any background, and it wasn't long before he lost interest. Besides, he was still tired from the trip, and the day's events had added their own burden of fatigue.

Scotty yawned, and Rick took the opportunity to suggest, "Let's go to bed."

"I'm with you."

The boys excused themselves and in a short time were settled down for the night. Rick fell asleep almost instantly.

He awoke with Scotty shouting in his ear. "Let's go, Rick! Trouble!"

Rick was on his feet, into trousers and shoes before he was fully awake. Scotty had already dashed into the corridor. Rick joined him and the rest of the scientists, who were standing in a group in front of Jeffrey Williams' room. The white-haired scientist was holding a handkerchief to a b.l.o.o.d.y bruise on his head. Rick hurried up just in time to hear him tell the group: "I don't know what happened. My door wasn't locked, so anyone could have come in. I didn't see a soul. I must have dozed off."

"What's going on?" Rick demanded.

His father answered. "Someone came into Jeff's room and slugged him, apparently while he was dozing over the tracings. Both the tracings and the sketch are gone!"

CHAPTER V.

DYNAMITE MISSING.

"THERE'S only one reason I can think of why anyone would want to steal the tracings," Rick said. He held on for a moment as Zircon steered the jeep over a b.u.mp in the trail. "If word has leaked out about why we're really here, maybe someone in the tourist business would steal the evidence to keep business from being ruined."

Scotty spoke up from the rear seat. "There's one big fat flaw in that argument, boy. Would anyone care so much about business that he'd want to stay and be blown up? Who thinks more of business than he does of his own skin?"

Zircon chuckled. "There may be such people, but I suspect they're scarce."

Rick had to agree. He stared through the windshield at the tail of Brad Connel's jeep. The geologist was leading the way to the firing area, and he was alone. Hartson Brant had tried to a.s.sign one of the boys as a helper, but Connel had balked. He insisted that he did not need a helper, that he was used to handling charges alone, that he did not want to take the risk of an accident like that of yesterday.

"Connel was pretty determined to go it alone," Rick remarked.

"He's upset over the accident to Ruiz," Zircon pointed out. "He probably feels bad because he couldn't see Ruiz when he visited the hospital."

Connel had gone into town with Dr. Balgos, and had paid a call at the Executive Mansion. While Balgos talked with Governor Montoya, recreating the stolen sketch from memory, Connel had been taken to the hospital by Lieutenant Governor Jaime Guevara. The hospital reported that Ruiz was on the danger list, his condition unchanged. He could have no visitors. Apparently both Guevara and Governor Montoya had tried to a.s.sure Connel that he should not be so depressed over what was obviously a freak accident.

The trio stopped at their first station, and Connel waved, then continued on his way. Rick watched him out of sight, then turned to go to work. He remembered what the geologist had said the night before.

"Connel figures we have months before the volcano blows," he remembered.

"What?" Zircon looked up sharply. "How did he arrive at that conclusion?"

"From Dr. Williams' sketch."

"Hmmm." The big scientist checked the detonator thoughtfully. "He must have figured on a straight upward flow of the magma. But from the shape of the magma front, I think it's highly unlikely that it will progress in any such regular fashion. Instead, the front probably will increase erratically, but in a kind of progression. It may double its frontage at approximately regular periods."

Scotty scratched his chin. "Double its frontage, huh? What does that mean?"

"Maybe four hundred square feet today, eight hundred tomorrow, and sixteen hundred the day after. We won't know the rate of growth, or the time scale, until we've watched it for a while. But I talked with Balgos and Hartson last night at some length, and their opinion is that we probably have a couple of weeks, maybe even three or four. But not months."

Rick whistled. "That fast? When will we be sure?"

Zircon shrugged. "Can't tell. We'll keep shooting on a daily schedule, and perhaps in three or four days we'll see enough growth in the front to make an estimate. But even that can be misleading. If the magma strikes a softer area, it can grow even more rapidly. Our best bet will be to keep a daily watch from now on."

Rick looked up at the extinct cone of El Viejo. In his imagination he saw the top blow off in an earth-shaking explosion and millions of tons of white-hot lava spurt high in the air. Then, when the lava came down...

"We'd better get on the ball," he said. "Almost time for our first shot."

"Want to connect up?" Zircon asked.

"I guess so." Rick had never handled dynamite before, but there was no time like the present to get started. He took sticks from his pocket, then a cap. Zircon handed him the crimping tool. He put a cap in place; then, with infinite care, put the crimping tool in position. He took a deep breath and squeezed. Nothing happened, except that the cap was now held tightly.

Rick let his breath out and grinned. Zircon and Scotty grinned back.

"When you get real salty," Scotty said, "you'll crimp the caps on with your teeth."

"Ha!" Rick said. "And blow my head off?"

"It's possible," Zircon agreed. "It has happened. My advice is, don't try it. I've seen men do it, but it always gives me the shudders. Come on. Let's plant the charge and lay the wire."

The shots went off on schedule, and the party returned to the hotel. Later, in a.n.a.lyzing the shots and making a new sketch, Jeffrey Williams thought the magma front had grown slightly from the previous day, but since the first tracings were gone, there was no way of being sure.

David Riddle and Brad Connel walked in as he finished. The two, using respirators, had been to inspect the hot-springs area.

"Nothing new," Riddle reported. "The only sign of activity is a fresh outpouring of hydrogen sulfide. It's bubbling up through the mud, and it could be a pocket of gas that was suddenly released. The springs won't tell us much,"

Hartson Brant said thoughtfully, "I'm afraid you're right, Dave. Nothing for it but to keep shooting. And we'll lock up the papers at night, so we can keep track of what's going on. One thing we'd better do is start a survey of the entire cone, above the level where our shots give us information. I'd like to be sure we're not overlooking any new gaps or fissures in the mountain itself. But can we do it with the manpower we have available and still keep shooting?"

Rick spoke up. "I know how we can help, Dad. Scotty and I can handle our stations alone now. That will leave Dr. Zircon free for other things. Then, if we change stations with Brad Connel, and he takes the closer ones, he can get back a good hour earlier and do other work."

"No!" Brad Connel exploded.

Hartson Brant and the other scientists looked at him with surprise. "Why not?" Dr. Brant asked. "It seems like a sensible suggestion, Brad."

"It is," Connel said hurriedly. "It's just that ... well, maybe I'm still too upset over that accident, but I know the terrain now, and these kids don't. They should stick to the stations where they've been operating, and I'll handle my own. It's just that I don't want any risks whatever. My own part of the mountain is a lot rougher, and they'd be carrying dynamite and caps over pretty bouncy trails. I don't like it. I think we should stick to our own stations."

The geologist obviously felt strongly about it, and Hartson Brant agreed. "Since you feel that way, Brad, we'll let things go as they are. Hobart, can the boys handle the shots?"

"Sure," Zircon stated. "As long as Rick doesn't crimp caps with his teeth. Of course if he does we'll still get a reading, but we may lose Rick."

"No danger," Rick retorted. "Besides, you wouldn't get a reading because the shot wouldn't be timed right."

Hartson Brant saw that the big scientist was joking. "If Rick feels adventurous he can kick mountain lions for sport instead. I'm told there are some on the mountain,"

"Jaguars," Dr. Balgos offered. "Not your typical North American cats. These are much fiercer. They react faster to a kick-if you can get close enough to kick one."

Brad Connel laughed heartily. "The boys can lure 'em with catnip," he said.