also to have a transit, with which to take bearings for the purpose
of locating the stations with precision.

"The hotel restaurant has packed lunches for us," Hartson Brant stated.
"If we get under way at once, we can start shooting at one o'clock.
Let's try for three shots each this afternoon. Each firing team will
move one mile in a clockwise direction between shots, and we'll need to
space the shots fifteen minutes apart. Hobart, you'll start shooting at
1:00, Brad at 1:15, Dave at 1:30. At 2:00, we'll start the cycle over
again. That should bring us all back to the hotel by suppertime."

Big Hobart Zircon clapped the boys on the shoulder. "Let's get going.
Scotty, you pick up our lunches. Rick, we'll load equipment."

The five jeeps were lined up outside. Rick carried out a transit, the
tripod slung over his shoulder, and found the two local helpers waiting.
Ruiz was a short, swarthy man with gleaming white teeth and a
Mexican-style sombrero. Honorario was only slightly taller, and so thin
a strong breeze would blow him away. The two San Luzians greeted him
courteously. "_Buenos dias, senor._"

Rick knew enough Spanish to be equally polite. "_Buenos dias, senores.
Como estan ustedes?_"

The two switched to English. Rick hoped it wasn't a reflection on his
Spanish accent, acquired at Whiteside High School the year before. "We
are well, senor," Ruiz answered, and Honorario added, "We hope you will
enjoy San Luz, senor."

Rick said that he expected to enjoy it very much indeed. He wondered if
the two knew that their mountain was getting ready to blow its top. He
asked, "Do you have the dynamite, _amigos_?"

"In the shed, senor. Also the caps and the detonators. If you will come,
I will show you." Ruiz gestured toward a concrete shed that stood some
distance away.

"What was the shed used for?" Rick asked as they walked toward it.

"It is a shed for a pump, senor. The pump is for the hotel's water,
which must be brought up the hill from Calor."

In a moment Rick saw for himself. The pump was operating noisily. Along
one wall were shelves, one of which contained two cases of dynamite and
boxes of caps. On another shelf were three detonators. He selected one,
then picked out six sticks of dynamite. He handled the stuff gingerly,
even though he knew it was safe as so much soap. Dynamite, for all its
explosive power, is stable stuff, and difficult to set off by accident.

The dynamite caps were much less safe,