Armed Revolt
David Riddle had fired the last series of shots from Connel's stations.
By unanimous consent, the last station at the volcanic pipe had been
omitted. Two stations would have to do for now. All agreed it would be
foolish to jeopardize a man by going near the guarded third station.
Since Riddle had the longest distance to travel, he had not arrived when
the boys returned to the hotel. Now, as Zircon finished his ominous
statement, the government geologist strode into the room.
"We're in trouble," he stated. "I'm only a few minutes ahead of
soldiers. I came out of the trail onto the road and saw them just coming
off the dirt road onto the pavement. They shouted for me to stop, but I
wasn't of a mind to tangle with troops. I came as fast as I could."
"Are they coming here?" Hartson Brant asked quickly.
"They're either coming here or marching into Calor. Those are the only
two places the road leads. My guess is that they're marching here."
Rick said swiftly, "Connel got to Guevara! And Guevara is going to make
sure we don't spread the word!"
"Rick is probably right," Zircon snapped. "I suggest we clear out. If
we're captured, we'll be unable to operate at all."
"Grab the supplies and get into the jeeps," Hartson Brant ordered.
"Quickly! Rick, you and Scotty move fast. Get your stuff into the jeep,
then take as much dynamite as you can. Go up the road to where you have
a good view and act as lookouts. Give us as much warning as you can.
We'll take the rest of the dynamite and the equipment in the other
jeeps!"
Rick and Scotty dashed to their room. They threw clothes into their
bags, slammed them shut without bothering to pack neatly, and hurried
out into the parking lot. Rick backed the jeep up to the pump shed while
Scotty ran to the door. To the policeman on duty he explained only that
they were in a great hurry.
The boys took time to load six cases, plus one of the detonators and a
roll of wire, then they got into the jeep and roared off up the road
toward the pumice works.
"We've probably got ten minutes," Scotty estimated. "If they're marching
at a normal pace, it would take them a little less than a half hour to
walk from the pumice works."
Rick drove a half mile up the road to where he had a good view of
several hundred yards and stopped the jeep. "We'll be able to spot them
from here." He turned the jeep around, ready to run as soon as the
troops came in sight. "Where do you suppose the soldiers came from?"
"Probably from a camp near San Souci," Scotty guessed. "Otherwise,
they'd have come up the main road from Calor. There's probably a camp on
the western shore somewhere."
"Wish we had some way of slowing them down," Rick mused. "We need a
mortar or a few military rockets. But all we've got is some dynamite,
and we can't throw that very far."
"Why do we have to throw it?" Scotty asked excitedly. "Listen. We'll put
a charge by the side of the road and string wire back a way. Then we can
park the jeep off the road next to the detonator. When they get within
range, we'll push the plunger and run. We can time it so they won't get
blown up, but they may think they're being shelled."
"That should do it," Rick agreed. He shifted into gear and moved ahead
slowly, searching for a likely spot. There was one a few yards ahead
where a clump of wild banana plants would shield the jeep from view. He
backed the jeep in next to the banana plants and made sure he could get
out again easily, then he took the coil of wire and began unwinding it
along the edge of the road. Scotty took out his scout knife and began to
pry open a case of dynamite.
Rick fed wire until he reached a spot a hundred yards up the road, then
took out his knife and cut through the thin stuff. He started back to
help Scotty and was just in time to see the dark-haired boy with a stick
of dynamite in his mouth!
Rick gasped. He started to run toward Scotty, but his pal waved him
back. Then, as Rick watched, horrified, he saw Scotty take the stick out
of his mouth and motion for him to come ahead.
"What are you doing?" Rick demanded. "I thought for a minute you'd lost
all your buttons and started eating dynamite."
"We didn't have crimpers," Scotty explained. "The only way I could get
the cap on was to crimp it with my teeth."
Rick turned white. He gulped. No wonder Scotty looked a little pale!
"It worked," Scotty said, a little shakily. "But I don't want to do it
as a regular thing."
"I should hope not!" Rick exclaimed fervently. "Give me that stick. I'll
connect up. Will one be enough?"
"Plenty," Scotty said. "Get going. I'll connect up the detonator."
By the time Rick had placed the dynamite and connected the wires, Scotty
was ready, the detonator in the front seat of the jeep between his legs.
"I wish we had some regular fuse," he said. "Then we could put short
fuses on a few sticks, light them, and throw them."
Rick stared at him. "And crimp all the caps with your teeth? Boy, I'm
glad we haven't any fuse!"
Scotty's estimate was two minutes off. It took twelve minutes for the
troops to come into sight. Watching from behind the banana plants, the
boys saw them hiking down the road like a bunch of tenderfeet on their
first five-mile hike. It was obvious that discipline in the San Luzian
army was slack. The men wore sloppy brown uniforms and a variety of
hats. They carried rifles and there were bandoliers of cartridges across
their chests and grenades at their belts.
"Can you see?" Rick whispered.
"Fine," Scotty whispered back.
They sat in the jeep, waiting. Rick kept the motor idling, knowing that
the sound would be inaudible a short distance away.
The troops reached the point the boys had selected. It was a big papaya
about fifty feet beyond the dynamite. Scotty pushed the plunger. The
dynamite exploded.
Rick raced the motor, then shifted into gear. Scotty cut the wires loose
with one flick of his knife and Rick lurched onto the road and fled
toward the hotel as fast as he could accelerate.
Through the rear-view mirror he could see the troops scatter and knew
they had slowed things down for a few minutes at least. The last view he
had was of one man, evidently an officer, trying to rally the troops
again.
Rick rounded the turn leading to the hotel grounds and saw that the
scientists were waiting in the jeeps, ready to roll. He slowed long
enough to yell, "Let's go," then led the way down the road to the front
of the hotel and into Calor.
The next problem was to find a place to stay. Honorario advised staying
away from the big hotels on the beach and suggested a smaller but quite
comfortable hostelry on the outskirts of town. Rick was pleased to see
that it was located right on the water, at the point where the long San
Luz beach began. But he doubted there would be time for swimming.
The Hotel Internationale was comfortable, and more than adequate. The
scientists congratulated each other on being able to get rooms.
Fortunately, as the manager explained, it was not yet full _turista_
time. If they were prepared to double up, two to a room, he could
accommodate them.
Rick and Scotty drew a room on the second floor. The bath was down the
hall, but they didn't mind that. Hartson Brant and Hobart Zircon shared
the largest room, and there was a large porch that could be used as a
meeting place.
The hotel also had a basement room that the manager was glad to turn
over for the equipment--at a slight fee, naturally. But he boggled when
the boys appeared with cases of dynamite on their shoulder.
"Leave it to me," Honorario suggested. "I will find a place that will be
safe."
Rick was glad to leave it to Honorario. He was anxious to get in touch
with Montoya, to explain what had happened. The police station was not
far away. He and Scotty hiked over and found the young captain alone in
his office.
Montoya listened to their story, and his face became stern. "There are
two possibilities," he said finally. "Either Guevara is mounting a big
revolution, or he is interested only in the diamonds. If it is the
diamonds, then he probably will keep the troops near the mountain, and
the city may not be bothered at all."
"How can we find out?" Rick asked. "Except by waiting to see if troops
show up here."
Montoya stared through the window at the tiny harbor of Calor. The boys
waited while he thought it over.
Finally the captain swiveled around and faced them. "We can find out, if
you will take a chance. I do not think it is much of a chance, really,
but it may be. Let us think of things from Guevara's point of view. He
knows that you know of these diamonds. He also knows, because he is
intelligent, that you surely realize the danger of talking about them.
So, what would he do with you if he caught you? Perhaps detain you for a
while, but no more. He knows that harm to foreigners would bring down
trouble he could not handle. We would have Venezuela, Colombia, Great
Britain, and the United States in here. The first three might bring in
troops on the pretext of restoring order, but actually to back up their
claims to the island. The United States would bring great pressure on
all three to do something."
"It makes sense," Rick agreed. "So you don't think we're in any great
danger from Guevara?"
"No. If you had been at the hotel, he would have kept you there, I
think. But you were not, so we must see if he is prepared to follow you.
My own opinion is that he wants to be let alone to mine diamonds, while
he has time. It does not take an invasion of Calor to do this."
"What do you want us to do?" Scotty asked.
"Simply take a ride to the hotel, or as far as you can go. See what the
situation really is. If I, or my men, should try this it would surely
mean shooting. But you are _extranjeros_,--foreigners. You can get away
with it."
"You hope," Rick said.
Montoya's teeth flashed in the first smile they had seen on his face.
"Indeed," he agreed. "I hope."