the derrick that handled the
rotary drills were dim and ghostly in the light of the stars.

"We've gone through some places I'd call plenty warm," said Smithy,
"but you--you craves it _hot_! Think we're about due?" he asked.

Rawson answered indirectly.

"One great big old he-crater!" he said. His outstretched arm swept the
whole circle of starlit mountains that enclosed the Basin. "That's
what this was once. Twenty miles across--and when it blew its head off
it must have sprayed this whole Southwest.

"Now, those craters"--he pointed contemptuously toward the three
conical peaks off to the right--"those were just blow-holes on the
side of this big one."

* * * * *

In the ragged ring of mountains, the throat of some volcanic monster
of an earlier age, the three cones towered hugely. Their tops were
plainly cupped; their ashy sloping sides swept down to the desert
floor. At their base, the gray walls of stone in the ghost town of
Little Rhyolite gleamed palely, like skeleton remains.

"I've seen steam, live steam," Rawson went on, "coming out of a
fissure in the rocks. I know there's heat and plenty of it down below.
We're about due to hit it. The boys are pulling the drill now; they
cut through into a whale of a cave down below there--"

He broke off abruptly to fix his attention on the dark valley below,
where lights were moving. One white slash of brilliance cut across the
dark ground; another, then a cluster of flood lights blazed out. They
picked the skeleton framework of the giant derrick in black relief
against the white glare of the sand. From far below; through the
quiet air, came sounds of excited shouting; the voices of men were
raised in sudden clamor.

"They've pulled the drill," said Rawson. "But why all the excitement?"

He had already turned toward their car when the crackle of six quick
shots came from below. His abrupt command was not needed; Smithy was
in the car while still the echoes were rolling off among the hills.
Their own lights flashed on to show the mountain grade waiting for
their quick descent.

* * * * *

The sandy floor of this part of the Tonah Basin was littered with the
orderly disorder of a big construction job--mountains of casing,
tubular drill rod, a foot in diameter; segmental bearings to clamp
around the rod every hundred feet and give it smooth play. Dean drove
his car swiftly along the surfaced road t