Seismic Tracings
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; analysis 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 butter 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.
"Hello, 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 bloody 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!"