Dwight’s adventure with the cassowary had upset their plans badly. There was no telling how soon he could move, for wounds in the tropics have an aggravating way of infecting and becoming obstinate about healing. The curator chafed over the delay, scarce daring to hope that the dry, breezy climate of the mountains would bring a swift closing of the scratches of the cassowary’s claw. He considered, meanwhile, the advisability of setting out with Nicky on a scouting tour, leaving Sadok and Baderoon to guard the camp. He finally decided to risk a day’s absence. “Dwight,” said he, coming over to the boy’s tent after making up his mind, “Nicky and I are going to climb this mountain back of us, and do some mapping and exploring from its top. We’ll be gone all day, and possibly the night, too. It’s taking a chance, to break up our party this way, I know, but half our time has already gone by since the proa left, and we must be up and doing. I’m leaving you the most deadly weapon I’ve got.” He pulled out a bright, shiny, nickel bomb from a flap case on his belt. It seemed very light and fragile to Dwight as he handled it. “I call it the ‘explorer’s bomb,’” said the curator. “It’s filled with H. E. explosive. To arm it you bend this little copper projection over until it breaks off and you hear a hiss. Then throw it for all you’re worth and run! If a war party comes up, and they won’t keep their distance or act hostile, throw it among them, and then you and the others bolt for cover.” He unbelted the bomb’s carrying case, and Dwight replaced the missile in it gingerly. “You won’t have to use it, I’m sure,” said the curator, confidently. “Between the _lakatoi_ and the canoe fight we’ve got a reputation for being best left alone, in this region, I’m thinking.” He and Nicky set off early next morning. They went straight up the mountain side through the thick and thorny jungle. The geological formation was of comparatively recent lava rock, and the regular slope signified that an old extinct volcano crater formed its top, no doubt long since filled up and overgrown. As they climbed steadily higher, and wider and wider vistas of the country came to view, this impression was confirmed. High up on the slopes a regular talus of broken lava rock from some former eruption barred their way. The bowlders were of all sizes and their crevices and sunny flats held many a snake, so that Nicky, as “snakeologist” of the expedition, felt constrained to cut a snake stick and go after them.