e 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 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 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.

They reached a patch of crushed and yellowed growth where Connel
obviously had parked his jeep. There were oil stains on some of the
broken leaves.

Scotty pointed to a brown-paper cigarette stub. "Ever see Connel smoke
one 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 still
damp," he said. "Someone's been here very recently. We'd b