The Flaming Mountain: A Rick Brant Science-Adventure Story

Suddenly Scotty let out a warning gasp. The dark-haired boy threw himself sideways, on top of Rick, and the two of them crashed to the ground.

"Roll away," Scotty said urgently. "Back! Hurry!"

The ground opened up a few feet away. Rick felt a giant hand pick him up, shake him, then slam him into a palmetto. Bruised and dazed, he grabbed the palmetto for support and lacerated his hands on the rough covering. He slid to the ground, consciousness slipping from him.

For a moment Rick lay slumped at the base of the palmetto. He didn't lose consciousness completely, but he was stunned and unable to function either mentally or physically. He had neither sight or hearing for the first few seconds, then these faculties slowly returned. He became aware that he was looking down at a broad green leaf, and that the leaf was gradually turning crimson.

He watched, his vision clearing, and suddenly realized that the red pigment was dripping onto the leaf in a steady series of drops that was almost a stream. At almost the same instant he knew that the red was blood and that it was his. He shook his head to clear it, and the red spray flew from side to side. Through the periphery of vision he saw that it was coming from his nose.

Rick realized that he was on his hands and knees. He rose to a kneeling position and fished for his handkerchief. He put it to his nose and it came away stained red. He sighed with relief. Nosebleed. For a moment he had wondered..

A few feet away Scotty was slowly stretching one limb after another, checking to be sure he was functioning. Satisfied, the ex-Marine sat up, with some effort. Rick saw that his nose was bleeding, too.

"You've got a nosebleed," Rick said faintly.

Scotty touched his nose with the back of his hand and examined the red trace. "Uhuh," he agreed.

"What happened?" Rick asked weakly. His voice sounded far away!

Scotty's answer was barely audible. "We found the missing dynamite. I saw a length of wire along the trail. Are you okay?"

"I think so." Rick got to his feet, feeling as though his body were in sections. "We must have been close when it went off."

The two held onto each other for mutual support while strength came back into them.

"We weren't too close," Scotty said finally. He gestured up the trail. Rick looked, and saw a gaping hole some distance away. Beyond it, coming toward them at as high a speed as the trail allowed, was Brad Connel in his jeep.

The geologist stopped as he reached the hole, then swung off the trail and plowed through some scrub and back onto it again. He drew up next to the boys.

"So it was you who stole the dynamite!" the geologist said grimly. "What happened? Did it explode while you were fooling around with it?"

The boys stared at him, dazed and openmouthed.

"You're crazy," Rick managed finally. "We didn't steal it, but we almost got blown up in it. If Scotty hadn't seen the wire, we both would have been blown to bits."

The geologist's eyes narrowed. "Do you mean to tell me someone tried to blow you up? That's nonsense!"

"That's what happened, nonsense or not," Rick said curtly.

Scotty added, "And what were you doing here?"

"Came to get my wallet," the geologist answered readily. "I missed it and figured I must have dropped it up here. It wasn't anywhere else I'd been. Better get in and let me take you back. If you were close enough to get nosebleeds you must be shaken up quite a bit."

"We're shaken," Rick agreed. "Our jeep is down at our shot station. We decided to leave it there and take a hike."

They climbed into the back of Connel's jeep. The nosebleeds had stopped now, but their faces were smeared with blood. Neither felt like talking, nor, apparently, did Connel. He stopped at their third station and asked, "Can you make it? Or do you want to ride back with me?"

"We can make it," Rick said. "Thanks for the lift."

"I'd better stay behind you to make sure," Connel stated.

The boys headed straight back to the hotel, Connel a hundred yards to their rear. In the parking lot they thanked him again for the lift, then hurried in to let warm water wash away the traces of their experience.

Later, stretched out on their beds, they talked it over.

"You saved our bacon," Rick stated. "But what really happened?"

"I'm not sure," Scotty replied. "There are two possibilities. One, we sprung a booby trap. I don't really credit that one much, because we were rolling away when the stuff let go. If we'd hit a trip wire or something similar, the dynamite would have gone off right then. So, second possibility, someone was waiting for us. We jumped back just as he pushed the plunger. Or, maybe he saw we had spotted the trap and tried to get us, anyway."

"Who's he?" Rick asked.

"Persons unknown," Scotty answered. "Or maybe one person not unknown."

"Meaning Connel? He could have done it. Suppose he set the trap, then took his jeep up the hill out of sight. Then he could have walked back, fired the shot, hurried back for his jeep, and driven down."

"Could be," Scotty agreed. "Only, did he know we were coming?"

Rick shrugged. "How can we know that? For all we know, from his third shot station he might be able to look right down on the trail. He sees us, hurries into position, fires the charge, and hurries back. We can't really tell until we get to that third station. Personally, I vote for Connel."

"Not proven," Scotty warned.

Rick knew it. "It may never be proven, on account of no witnesses. But suppose it was some unknown party? Why wouldn't that party try for Connel? Why wait until he's passed, and we're coming into position? Would an unknown thief be that interested in us?"

"Too many questions," Scotty objected. "I haven't any answers. But you make a good case for its being Connel. Also, did you notice how he jumped on us for stealing the dynamite? That probably would have been his story if we'd been killed. Now tell me what his motive is. Why should he try to delay the project?"

Rick had no answer to that. "Makes no sense," he agreed. "Unless there's something he doesn't want us to see. That dynamite sure discouraged our trip to his third station!"

CHAPTER VII

Casa Guevara

The scientific party lost only one day because of the dynamite theft. Governor Montoya supplied more explosives and the firing schedule continued. Now, however, the dynamite was guarded by police supplied by His Excellency. Police also were in evidence around the Hot Springs Hotel. No more chances were being taken.

After three days, the scientists began to have a better idea of what was going on in the earth beneath them, but Rick and Scotty could make little sense of the mass of data. Even the picture being filled in by Dr. Williams was confusing. Now, two magma areas were showing where only one had shown before.

Esteben Balgos answered Rick's plea for an explanation. Over an excellent dinner of roast suckling pig and bananas steamed with lemon juice, the volcanologist took time to answer their questions.

"There is much we do not know about volcanoes," the Peruvian scientist began. "For example, we do not know exactly what causes magma to form. Magma is, in simplest terms, molten rock. Some event takes place far below, where the earth's crust ends and the mantle begins, and the rock melts."

"How far below?" Rick asked.

"The distance varies. Under the ocean trenches, for example, the mantle may begin only four miles down. Under some of the mountainous land masses it may be closer to forty miles."

Scotty whistled. "That's a whale of a distance. How can you tell how far down it is?"

"By the seismic traces from earthquakes, or from explosive shots like the ones we are shooting. When the shock waves have reached the zone between the earth's crust and the mantle, we see the results on our tracings."

"Is it really a sharp line?" Rick queried.