haps fifty feet below
the top of the mesa. On the far side of the shelf the road dipped again.
Scotty let the jeep roll to the edge of the dip and they looked down the
roadway which twisted and turned and finally forked a thousand feet
below.

Scotty put the jeep in reverse and backed to the center of the shelf. It
was about two hundred feet wide, the road hugging the inner cliff.
Toward the edge of the shelf the ground was disturbed by vehicle tracks.

"Stop here," Rick said.

Scotty killed the engine, and pointed to a pile of cans near the remains
of a fire. "This must be where Mac and Pancho set up their radar gear."

Rick looked around him appreciatively. In the direction of Scarlet Lake
there was a clear view for miles. Only the low ridges of intervening
hills prevented them from seeing the base itself. A radar outfit could
track the rockets from here with no interference at all, once the rocket
had risen above the range of low hills.

Scotty indicated the scenery with a wave of his hand. "Plenty to see.
But twenty tons of transistors could be in plain sight and we'd never
know it. How would you hide stolen goods, if you had to do it?"

Rick turned and surveyed the base of the cliff that led to the top of
the mesa. "I'd probably hunt for a space between two big rocks, pack it
in, and load rocks on top."

"And that ain't stuff and nonsense," Scotty agreed. "Come on. Let's
start moving boulders."

Rick shook his head as his eyes encompassed the more than a hundred
yards of strewn rocks at the cliff's bottom. "Shall we move them a ton
at a time?"

Scotty grinned helplessly. "At that rate we'd be here six months." He
kicked an empty beer can. "Maybe we'd better look in the cans instead."

As though by magic the can flew into the air, flashing in the sunlight.
At the same instant they heard the spiteful crack of a rifle.

Scotty reacted instantly, and Rick was only a fraction of a second
behind. They dashed across the road and dove for cover in the rocks
behind the jeep.

The rifle cracked again. A slug whined into space a few feet from their
noses, leaving a silvery streak of lead on a rock.

The boys moved again, closer into the face of the cliff, and took
shelter under a slight overhang.

"Now what?" Rick asked.

Scotty surveyed the situation, estimated the line of fire from the lead
smear on the rock, then shook his head.

"We can't get in the jeep and make a run for it, because we'd be right
in