u're on thin ice, boy. People don't react to
accidents in a standard way. It might have been overdone, but it might
not, too. What else?"

"He didn't want us to go along as helpers after Ruiz was hurt. I know
that doesn't mean much, and he said he was just afraid of another
accident, but wouldn't you think he'd like some company? Besides, two
accidents like that just don't happen. Then, when we suggested changing
stations so he could have more time to work on other things, he yelled
pretty fast."

"Because we don't know his terrain," Scotty pointed out. "At least
that's what he said."

"Sure. But what's to know about the terrain? All we'd have to do would
be to follow his jeep tracks, and shoot where the ground is already torn
up from his earlier shots. If it's safe for him to carry caps and
dynamite, it's safe for us."

Scotty scratched his chin thoughtfully. "I see what you mean. But the
evidence isn't very conclusive, is it?"

"No," Rick admitted. "Only where's he going now? If he planned to go to
town, he'd invite anyone who wanted to go, wouldn't he? That's what most
people would do."

Scotty chuckled. "One thing I like about you. When you get a notion in
that noggin, it doesn't come out easily. Next you'll be suggesting that
he slugged Williams and stole the dynamite."

"He could have," Rick pointed out. "Apparently he was alone in his room
both times. At least no one said he was with them."

Scotty held up his hands in surrender. "Okay. What do we do about it?"

"Let's see where he's going."

"I knew it," Scotty said resignedly. "Okay. But we'd better hurry."

There was a clear view from the front of the hotel down the slopes of
the foothills to the town of Calor. The road wound around and
occasionally vanished from sight in clumps of green growth, but the boys
watched for several minutes and saw no sign of Connel. The jeep with
Balgos and the others was rolling along in the distance, but it was
still close enough to see three occupants.

"He didn't go to town," Rick said finally, "and there's only one other
road out of here."

"To the shot stations," Scotty agreed. "Unless he cut off and headed for
San Souci." That was a little fishing village on the west coast. Neither
boy had been there, but they had used a flagpole on the tip of the cape
near the town as a sighting marker.

"Let's go see," Rick suggested.

They hurried through the hotel to the parking lot and got into the jeep.
Rick starte