CHAPTER IX
The Yellow Ground
Governor Luis Montoya could not be located. Neither his family nor hisstaff knew his whereabouts. There was great alarm over his unexplainedabsence. The police were searching for the missing executive, but withno success.
Hartson Brant called a council of war and told the scientific group thathis most recent phone call to Guevara had even resulted in a turndownwhen he asked for more dynamite. The lieutenant governor evidently wasnot content with refusing to help, he was going to obstruct.
"There is dynamite on Trinidad," Hartson Brant said. "Plenty of it. Imade a phone call to a friend at the U. S. Air Base there, and he agreedto get it for us. Rick, you and Scotty fly over to Port of Spain rightaway. The information is written down here." He handed Rick a slip ofpaper.
"If you leave now, you can get there before dark, spend the night andcome back in the morning. Bring all the dynamite you can carry, withcaps and a few reels of primer cord. We'll need more wire, too. Gethopping, 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 theparking lot for the jeep.
The weather was fine and clear, and the flight uneventful. When theylanded at the U. S. base they found that Hartson Brant's friend, ColonelTom Markey, had arranged for a full load of dynamite, and full gas tanksfor the plane. The boys spent the night at bachelor officers' quartersat the base and took off at dawn, the Sky Wagon sluggish from its loadof dynamite cases.
Back at the Hot Springs Hotel, they unloaded the dynamite from the jeepand stored it under police protection in the pump house. Then they wentto look for the scientists.
Hartson Brant, David Riddle, and Julius Weiss were in the conferenceroom working over drawings. Rick saw that they were sketches of atunnel.
The scientists welcomed them, and Rick asked, "Any progress, Dad?"
"No, Rick. The governor is still missing. We can't get help until he'sfound."
"Where are the others?" Scotty asked.
"Placing tiltometers on the mountain," his father told him. "Theinstruments were ordered by phone from Caracas right after you left andgot 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 climbbehind 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 wantsyou 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 doa little investigating. Let's go to the kitchen, get a couple ofsandwiches, and eat them on the way."
"To where?" Scotty asked. He grinned. "Don't tell me. To see what Connelis hiding over at his stations."
"On the button. 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 boyscould 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 ofbroken vegetation Connel's jeep had made, noticing that the trail wasdipping downward to a spot lower on the mountain than the otherstations.
They reached a patch of crushed and yellowed growth where Connelobviously had parked his jeep. There were oil stains on some of thebroken leaves.
Scotty pointed to a brown-paper cigarette stub. "Ever see Connel smokeone of those?"
Rick hadn't. "He smokes cigars. Where do you suppose that came from?"
Scotty got out of the jeep and bent over the butt. "The tip is stilldamp," he said. "Someone's been here very recently. We'd better keep aneye open."
Trampled vegetation showed them the path to the firing place. Movingcautiously, the boys walked down the path, eyes constantly searching forsigns of movement in the heavy growth.
The clearing where Connel had placed his shots was only a short distancedown the path. Rick examined it carefully, but it looked like all theothers, except for one thing. The broken earth was yellow, and of adifferent texture than the deep jungle loam at the other stations.
Rick walked into the shattered area and picked up a piece of the yellowground. It broke in his hands. "Funny-looking stuff," he said.
"Yes," Scotty agreed. "Take a look around while I keep a watch. I have afunny feeling we're not alone here."
There was a fairly deep crater in the middle of the area. Rick steppedinto it and kicked yellow earth out of his way. He was puzzled. Therewas nothing visible in the area except the yellow ground, and there wasnothing about that to give him a clue to Connel's determination to keepthem away.
His foot dislodged a clump of earth. It rolled to the bottom of theshot crater, exposing two large crystals. Rick picked them up and rubbedthe dirt off. They felt rather greasy. He didn't think they were quartz.His mind ranged over the possibilities. Probably datolite, he decided.The color was about right, and he knew datolite was found in igneousrocks of volcanic origin. He put the crystals in his pocket.
A trace of blue caught his eye and he knelt, digging with his hands. Heuncovered a few more of the datolite crystals and put them in hispocket. They weren't particularly good specimens; he had some in hisrock collection that were perfectly formed and clear, but at least theywere something to take home.
Digging uncovered a layer of hard blue rock, heavily pockmarked andfilled with the yellow ground. He saw one place where the blue actuallyblended in with yellow and decided that the blue and yellow wereprobably the same rock. The slaty blue simply turned to yellow when itwas exposed to the air for a while.
There were loose pieces of blue, broken by the dynamite blasts. Hepicked up a couple of smaller pieces, then added a piece of yellow tohis collection. He uncovered another crystal, too, a large one nearlythe size of a golf ball and put that in his pocket.
Scotty was getting restless. "Let's get going," he said. "I don't likethis."
Rick had seen enough, and it had told him nothing. He was just aspuzzled over Connel's motive as ever. Obviously, the answer was nothere--or, if it was, they couldn't see it.
"Okay," he said. "Move out."
Scotty led the way back to the jeep. Rick got into the driver's seat andstarted the motor. He backed and turned in the narrow space Connel'sjeep had created, and finally got his wheels straight for the run back.
From somewhere behind them a voice called, "_Parada!_"
"Who's that yelling at us to stop?" Rick asked.
"I can't see anyone," Scotty replied. His eyes were scanning the jungle."But I don't know anyone around here we want to talk to. I've got ahunch we should get going."
Rick felt the same. He released the clutch and the jeep moved ahead.
"_Parada!_" the voice yelled again, and on the echo came the clear crashof a rifleshot. A jagged star suddenly appeared on the windshieldbetween them!
Rick reacted instinctively. He shoved the gas pedal to the floor andbent low, the skin of his back crawling with the expectation of a riflebullet hitting it. The jeep leaped ahead and he steered as best hecould. He shifted into second and the vehicle picked up speed. The riflesnapped again and he heard the sound of the slug hitting metal in therear of the jeep. Then the trail turned and there was heavy junglegrowth between them and the unseen sniper.
Not until they reached the second station, a mile away, did Rick slowdown. He looked at Scotty, his face grim. "The place was guarded. Whatelse can you make out of it?"
"Just that," Scotty agreed. "The guard must have been making a touraround the shot station. He got back just as we were taking off."
"Funny he didn't hear the jeep when we came," Rick said.
"Not very. Sound gets lost pretty fast in this heavy growth. Youcouldn't hear u
s a hundred yards away. Probably there's just the oneguard, and he goes around the station in a big circle."
"I'll buy it," Rick agreed. "But why? Why guard a chunk of jungle withnothing in it but some torn up yellow ground?"
"When I find out," Scotty replied, "I'll let you know first thing."
The Flaming Mountain: A Rick Brant Science-Adventure Story Page 9
