"This stuff is beyond me," Connel said. "Let me know what you decide, will you?" He turned and walked from the room.

Rick's eyes met Scotty's. The ex-Marine nodded, and in a moment quietly slipped out of the room.

Julius Weiss demanded, "Are you seriously proposing that we drive a tunnel for over a quarter mile, almost straight down, through solid rock?"

Riddle shrugged. "Do you know any other way of releasing the magma safely? I don't."

"Perhaps it could be done," Hartson Brant said thoughtfully. "But, as Dave says, we'd need time, machinery, and manpower. I'm sure we can get the machinery and the manpower from the governor. But do we have time?"

Balgos and Williams looked at each other. They were the experts. It was up to them to say.

"How long, Jeff?" Balgos asked.

"I don't know. If we a.s.sume the magma will continue rising at roughly the same rate we've measured during the past few days, I'd guess perhaps two or three weeks. On the other hand, the magma could find weaknesses we haven't detected. We may have only a few days."

"We'll have to try," Hartson Brant stated. "If the governor can give us the entire labor force of the island, and all available earth-moving machinery, we have a chance at least. If we do nothing, there's no chance at all. I think we should pay a visit to the governor right now."

Scotty came back into the room. "Connel's in his room," he reported. "I think he made a telephone call, but I can't be sure without checking with the switchboard. Shall I?"

"It doesn't matter," Rick told him. "We're on our way to see the governor. Connel can't stop things now."

The scientists were already moving through the door and to the jeeps.

Within a few moments the small convoy was moving down the mountainside toward Calor and the executive offices.

Inside the cool, white stone building the group waited while Esteben Balgos went to see if the governor was available. He came out of the executive suite with a look of concern on his face.

"The governor is not in," he reported. "His secretary does not know where he is. The secretary's worried. Montoya didn't show up at all this morning and his residence says he left at the usual time. I think we'd better see the lieutenant governor."

Rick started to speak, but thought better of it. Connel had not come with them, and his visit to Guevara could mean nothing.

Jaime Guevara was a tall, thin man with a hawk face and a tiny goatee.

Hartson Brant, as spokesman, got to the point right away. He described the reason for their coming, and their findings to date. He stressed the need for fast action. In the governor's absence, he stated, they would need the active support of Senor Guevara. If he would issue orders at once, the scientific group would be happy to organize and supervise the work.

Guevara listened until the scientists had finished, then he smiled. "A strange tale," he said. "It is difficult to believe El Viejo is getting ready to erupt. Surely your imaginations have run away with you."

"We do not depend on imagination," Balgos said curtly. "We depend on scientific investigation. The situation is precisely as Dr. Brant outlined it."

"No doubt," Guevara said soothingly. "But surely you realize I cannot disrupt the economy of the entire island simply to dig a hole. Why, the people would laugh their heads off. No, senores, I am helpless. You had better see the governor."

"The governor isn't here and there is no time to lose," Hartson Brant said flatly. "You must act immediately if the island is to be saved. The lives of your people are in your own hands."

"Perhaps the governor will return soon," Guevara said. "He will doubtless believe your story and take action. I regret that I cannot.

And now, if you will excuse me?"

"Then you will not move even to save the island?"

"I do not believe the island is in danger, Dr. Brant," Guevara said coldly. "Convince the governor--if you can find him. Meanwhile, have the favor to cease bothering me with your silly tales!"

CHAPTER IX

The Yellow Ground

Governor Luis Montoya could not be located. Neither his family nor his staff knew his whereabouts. There was great alarm over his unexplained absence. The police were searching for the missing executive, but with no success.

Hartson Brant called a council of war and told the scientific group that his most recent phone call to Guevara had even resulted in a turndown when he asked for more dynamite. The lieutenant governor evidently was not content with refusing to help, he was going to obstruct.

"There is dynamite on Trinidad," Hartson Brant said. "Plenty of it. I made a phone call to a friend at the U. S. Air Base there, and he agreed to get it for us. Rick, you and Scotty fly over to Port of Spain right away. The information is written down here." He handed Rick a slip of paper.

"If you leave now, you can get there before dark, spend the night and come back in the morning. Bring all the dynamite you can carry, with caps and a few reels of primer cord. We'll need more wire, too. Get hopping, now."

"Yes, sir," Rick said. He and Scotty ran to their room for toothbrushes, stuffed their pockets with extra socks and underwear, and ran to the parking lot for the jeep.

The weather was fine and clear, and the flight uneventful. When they landed at the U. S. base they found that Hartson Brant's friend, Colonel Tom Markey, had arranged for a full load of dynamite, and full gas tanks for the plane. The boys spent the night at bachelor officers' quarters at the base and took off at dawn, the Sky Wagon sluggish from its load of dynamite cases.

Back at the Hot Springs Hotel, they unloaded the dynamite from the jeep and stored it under police protection in the pump house. Then they went to look for the scientists.

Hartson Brant, David Riddle, and Julius Weiss were in the conference room working over drawings. Rick saw that they were sketches of a tunnel.

The scientists welcomed them, and Rick asked, "Any progress, Dad?"

"No, Rick. The governor is still missing. We can't get help until he's found."

"Where are the others?" Scotty asked.

"Placing tiltometers on the mountain," his father told him. "The instruments were ordered by phone from Caracas right after you left and got in on the first morning plane."

Rick glanced at Scotty. He asked, "Exactly where are the others?"

"Balgos and Connel are at the north end of the mountain, above Redondo.

Williams and Zircon are up above us somewhere. They started the climb behind the hot springs."

"I think we'll get a bite to eat," Rick said. "Unless you need us."

"No. There's nothing for you to do right at the moment, but Balgos wants you to take some photos from the air later this afternoon."

"Okay, Dad." Rick gestured, and Scotty followed him out.

"All's quiet," Rick told his pal. "And a quiet time is a good time to do a little investigating. Let's go to the kitchen, get a couple of sandwiches, and eat them on the way."

"To where?" Scotty asked. He grinned. "Don't tell me. To see what Connel is hiding over at his stations."

"On the b.u.t.ton. Let's get going."

There was nothing whatever of interest at Connel's first two stations.

The ground was torn up somewhat from the series of shots, but the boys could find no trace of anything unusual. They got back into the jeep, and Rick drove up the trail to the last station. He followed the path of broken vegetation Connel's jeep had made, noticing that the trail was dipping downward to a spot lower on the mountain than the other stations.