The Flaming Mountain: A Rick Brant Science-Adventure Story

"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."

CHAPTER XIV

Night Patrol

The jeep rolled out of Calor on the highway back to the Hot Springs Hotel. Scotty drove, while Rick relaxed in the seat beside him. They had taken time for a sandwich and coffee, because they were not sure when they might eat again.

Hartson Brant and the scientists were at work on detailed analysis of the day's shots. It would take some time. When Rick told his father about the conversation with Captain Montoya, the scientist had nodded agreement. "It sounds like good sense, especially since there has been no sign of an invasion of the city. The troops could have been here before this. Go ahead, but be cautious. Always leave your escape route open."

It was good advice, and the boys intended to take it.

Scotty drove in silence for a few minutes, then said, "We're nearly at the fork in the road. Keep an eye open."

"Will do," Rick assured him. The left fork was the main, paved road to San Souci. The right fork led up to the hotel.

Scotty reached the fork and slowed.

"There!" Rick pointed.

Twenty yards up the right fork there was a barricade fence, newly made of small logs. Lounging against the fence were a half dozen soldiers.

"We could go left to San Souci, but not to the hotel," Rick said. "Now what?"

"Hold on and be ready for a quick take-off," Scotty muttered. He turned the jeep into the left fork, then shifted and backed around and up the right fork to where the soldiers waited.

One soldier, with sergeant's stripes on his sleeve, sauntered over to them. He carried a rifle, but Rick noted that he didn't hold it at the ready. The boy called, "Do you speak English, sergeant?"

"Leetle beet," the soldier replied. He smiled cordially. "What you weesh, señores?"

"Can we get to the hotel?" Scotty asked.

"No can, señor."

"Why not?" Rick asked.

"Ees … how you say? … big talk at hotel. Ees el gobernador y … and … el comandante Guevara. Also more mens. No one goes to hotel long time. Maybe when talk feenish."

"The governor and lieutenant governor are having a big conference at the hotel?" Rick asked incredulously.

"Ees so, señor."

"How long will this conference last?" Scotty asked.

The sergeant shrugged. "Quién sabe? Maybe two day, maybe two semana … how you say?.."