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 bump 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 assign 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 assure 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 analyzing 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.
Rick glanced at the geologist. The laugh hadn't rung true.
"I suggest we also save time by shooting in the early morning," Hartson
Brant added. "That will leave the afternoon for other activities. Jeff,
if you can manage to keep your head out of the way of blunt instruments,
perhaps you'd like to make a better sketch of the magma front. We can
assign the boys as guards, if you like."
Dr. Williams caressed the bruise on his head. "Not necessary, Hartson.
I'll lock my door and keep my face toward the window. But for now, how
about dinner?"
There was no disagreement.
After dinner, Rick and Scotty lingered over coffee with Dr. Balgos,
Julius Weiss, and Hartson Brant. The others had excused themselves and
gone back to their rooms. The boys were trying to learn more about
volcanoes, but the scientists had a tendency to get involved in
discussions of some of the finer points of geophysics and long minutes
would pass before Rick or Scotty could bring them back to the main point
with a question.
In the midst of an interesting discussion of the Hawaiian volcanoes by
Dr. Balgos, Honorario burst into the dining room and hurried to the
Peruvian scientist. Rick couldn't follow the rapid Spanish, but Balgos
jumped to his feet, his face white, and translated swiftly.
"Honorario says all the dynamite is gone!"