Rick Brant's chair went over backward and he fell to a floor that was shaking like soft mud under him. He heard the crashing of glassware and the sounds of furniture falling. And he heard the ominous rumble of the building itself, splitting, cracking, falling. "Out!" Hartson Brant yelled. "Get outside!" Rick scrambled to hands and knees and saw that Scotty was bending to pick him up. He waved his pal away and got to his feet, fighting to keep his balance on the shaking floor. He was scared stiff, but far from paralyzed. Nor did he lose his head. He made sure the scientists were on their way before he followed them through the nearest door. "Back!" Scotty yelled. The group paused as a section of building cornice crashed to the ground just outside. Dust billowed. Scotty sprang through the opening and looked up. "Okay," he called. "Come on!" The Spindrifters poured through the doorway out onto the parking lot. They were in time to see another section of cornice break loose and fall to the ground. Hotel employees were pouring out, too, gathering in the parking lot beyond the reach of the crumbling hotel. Rick saw a great gap appear in one wall and waited breathlessly for the wall to fall, but it held. The ground still shook under his feet, and his insides were producing the queasy symptoms of motion sickness. Then the earth steadied again, leaving only a mild temblor that soon vanished. The group looked at each other, white-faced. The earthquake had been by far the worst yet. There was even some doubt that the hotel was still safe. Rick, seeing the manager busy counting noses to make sure all his employees were out, gasped, "Connel!" Hartson Brant ran for the tool closet, the others behind him. The scientist reached for the key, ready to let Connel out. The wall was tilted crazily. The door had sprung wide open. Connel was gone! CHAPTER XII The Rising Magma The Spindrift group held a council of war in their office-conference room. Inspection of the hotel had shown that damage was not as serious as first expected. The cornices, held only by mortar, had fallen, and the rear exterior wall had lost its brick veneer. The structural part of the wall, while cracked, was strong enough to hold up. The veneer was unsafe, however, and it was agreed that all should stay well away from the area where Connel had been imprisoned. "We must begin another series of shots at once," Hartson Brant said. "It's apparent that the magma has moved, and rapidly. But until we get more tracings, we won't know in what direction. Meanwhile, we _must_ find the governor!" "How?" Rick asked. "How can we find him?" Hartson Brant smiled at his son. "It seems to me that you and Scotty have acquired considerable reputations as detectives, Rick. I suggest you earn them. Find the governor for us. We will give you Honorario as an interpreter, but it will be up to you. The rest of us must operate as best we can short-handed." "How about Connel?" Scotty demanded.