Part 9 (1/2)

”As closely as we can tell, the bottom one is right above the discontinuity, which is about six miles below us at this point. The upper one is about a mile below the top of El Viejo. This puts it about a quarter of a mile below the floor of the ocean.”

”Too close,” Scotty muttered. ”What now?”

”We keep shooting, to try and keep track of the upper front. Also, we will place instruments called tiltometers on the mountain slope. These are devices that really measure tilt. You see, if the lens of magma is increasing, El Viejo will swell up slightly. The tiltometers will show it, and we will then have further proof of what is coming.”

”But what can we do about it?” Rick demanded.

Balgos shrugged. ”_Quien sabe?_ The Spanish phrase is a good one, because it does not only ask 'who knows,' it also carries the meaning of a kind of resignation. There does not seem to be anything we can do.”

Rick stared across the dining room, eyes unseeing. It was hard to imagine that molten rock was gathering below them in sufficient quant.i.ty to make a mountain move; but once you succeeded in imagining it, the picture was terrifying.

Motion attracted his glance and his eyes focused in time to see Brad Connel rise from the table and excuse himself. He watched the geologist walk out of the room and turned to Scotty. His pal nodded. He had seen Connel leave, too.

Rick quickly counted noses. All others were present. Connel was the first to leave. He wondered where the geologist was going, and his eyes narrowed.

Connel had been very anxious about his and Scotty's condition, once the hotel was reached. Rick was sure his anxiety was strictly phony. Both boys had been stiff and sore, but a medical examination showed nothing seriously wrong, thanks to Scotty's fast action. Hartson Brant had been reluctant to accept Rick's opinion that Connel had stolen the dynamite and b.o.o.by-trapped them. He pointed out that the geologist had no motive; he had never even been on San Luz before.

Rick had to agree. There was no apparent motive, but that didn't mean Connel was innocent. He might have a motive that no one suspected.

Scotty c.o.c.ked an eyebrow at Rick and made a slight motion of his head toward the door where Connel had vanished. Rick got the signal. He nodded.

The boys thanked Dr. Balgos for his explanation, then excused themselves. They wandered casually from the dining room.

Once outside, Rick grinned at Scotty. ”So you're wondering where Connel has gone?”

”Aren't you?”

”Sure. But why not ask the others what he said when he excused himself?”

Scotty shook his head. ”They didn't think much of our theory about Connel causing our troubles, did they? If we asked, they'd think we were pus.h.i.+ng the same point too hard.”

Rick agreed. ”Where did he go?”

”I don't know. But if he leaves the hotel, it will be by jeep. There's nothing within walking distance. If we get out back of the pump shed we'll see him if he comes out.”

”Aye, aye. And if he jeeps out of here, we'll be on his tail. Roger?”

”You said a Brantish mouthful. Let's go.”

A quick reconnaissance disclosed no sign of the geologist outside, and the boys hurried across the dark parking lot to the shadow of the pump shed. A police officer materialized from the darkness and greeted them courteously. ”Good evening, senores. _A sus ordenes._”

By placing himself at their orders, the officer was politely asking their business, Rick knew. He replied, ”We came out to see if anyone had made another try for the dynamite, Senor _Teniente_.” Calling the officer ”lieutenant” was a form of flattery.

”_Sargento, muchas gracias_,” the officer replied. White teeth flashed in a grin. ”But who can tell the future? If I capture the thief, it may soon be lieutenant instead of sergeant.”

”We hope so,” Scotty said politely.

Rick noted that the three were hidden from the parking lot by the pump house. The position was satisfactory. If Connel was going to take a jeep, he probably would do so right away. Otherwise, why should he be the first to leave the dining room?

”Why would anyone steal dynamite?” Rick asked the police officer. He wanted only to keep a quiet conversation going behind the pump house.

The officer had theories. Perhaps revolutionaries had stolen it. Also, although it was against the law and brought severe punishment, fishermen were known to dynamite fish. This also was a possibility. But the explosion of the dynamite on the mountainside was certainly a puzzle.