The Flaming Mountain: A Rick Brant Science-Adventure Story

Honorario shrugged. "Who knows? But I have heard of no revolution. The governor is popular, and the people are satisfied. But you should know, my friends, that on this island the comandante of our small military is the lieutenant governor. I think we are not dealing here with revolution, but with Señor Jaime Guevara!"

"We're stuck," Scotty said. "I suppose we could keep on asking and try to get a line on where the governor's car went, but that's pretty hopeless. Honorario, can we possibly find someone who is loyal to the governor and who knows the island?"

Honorario thought it over. "In such a case," he replied, "there is only one way to be sure. It is, you understand, a matter of family. Among San Luzians, the family is first and all else is after. So, I think we should see the nephew of the governor. He is el capitán Ricardo Montoya, who is deputy of police for the western part of the island."

Captain Ricardo Montoya was young, capable, and alert. Honorario found him in the police headquarters in central Calor and invited him to join the boys for coffee at a nearby café.

Rick looked the officer over as he entered the restaurant, and he liked what he saw. Montoya was built like a middleweight fighter, and his white uniform was spotless. He was lighter in complexion than most San Luzians, but even the wisp of mustache on his upper lip couldn't conceal the firmness of his face.

He greeted them courteously, in good English. "A sus órdenes, señores. This Honorario says you wish to speak with me?"

"We place ourselves in your hands, Señor Capitán," Rick said quietly. "Because you are the governor's nephew and a police official, we must assume that you are completely loyal to him."

The officer's brilliant dark eyes flashed. "It would be a grave insult to assume otherwise, señor. He is the brother of my father."

"Good," Rick said. "No insult was intended. I think we had better tell you the entire story, then we can discuss what must be done." He started at the beginning, with the arrival of Balgos at Spindrift, and ended with the day's events.

"You have cast much light on what has happened," the captain stated. "I am grateful. Now, señores, you must not believe I have been idle. I had already discovered how my uncle was kidnaped. It was clear that some military element was involved, but I rejected the idea of revolution. The motive puzzled me. It is puzzling no longer, thanks to you. Also, while I suspected Guevara, there was no proof. My suspicion, you understand, was based on his character."

"Have you any idea where the governor was taken?" Scotty asked.

"I have now," Montoya said grimly. "The best possibility – and about the only place we have not looked – is Casa Guevara."

The boys exchanged glances. "Then we ought to make up a party of loyal people and invade the place," Rick stated.

"No. If I know this man Guevara, any such move would mean the death of my uncle, if he still lives. We must find some other way."

"Can you find loyal people?" Rick asked.

"A few. You must understand most people do not feel as I do about Guevara. He is popular. Who knows where the loyalty of the people lies, between individuals? One cannot be certain. So, I must use only men loyal to me. There are such."

Montoya rose. "We will be allies, since we fight for the same thing, which is San Luz. Let me see what kind of plan can be made. Go back to your hotel, and I will come for you there. We will work this thing out together." He shook hands with both boys, turned, and strode from the restaurant.

Rick paid for their coffee and the boys joined Honorario, who was waiting outside in the jeep. "He's a good, tough hombre," Rick told the San Luzian. "You made a good choice."

"I am glad," Honorario said. "Someday he will be governor, like his uncle."

While the boys were in Calor, the scientists had conducted another series of shots. The tracings were spread out on the table when they returned, and the group was engrossed in checking them over.

Rick and Scotty waited, watching. They knew from the quiet voices and tense attitudes that something serious had been found. Then Williams began to mark in the data on his sketch.

"This is where the explosion took place," he said. "Probably the magma hit a quantity of water as it entered the new channel. Notice that the channel is one we marked on here earlier as a probable path. So far, we're guessing right. Now, my estimate is that the magma will move fast, stopping only when it reaches this dike of solid basalt."

Hartson Brant wiped his face with his handkerchief. "It looks bad, Jeff. The magma will reach the solid layer before we could possibly get to it with a tunnel."

"What does that mean?" Rick asked.

Hobart Zircon answered him. "It means, Rick, that we no longer have time to dig a vent. It means the people of this island will be lucky if they can get away in time!"

CHAPTER XIII

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?"