“Let’s stick to the prospecting,” Donner said, “and save the travel lecture for another time.”

“Just laying the groundwork.” Koplin shot Donner a disapproving stare, his tone icy. “If I may continue without interruption-“

“Of course,” Seagram said. He pulled his chair strategically between the bed and Donner. “It’s your game, Sid. We’ll play by your rules.”

“Thank you.” Koplin shifted his body. “Geographically, the island is quite interesting. A description of the faulting and uplifting of rocks that were once sediments formed under an ancient sea could fill several textbooks. Mineralogically, the magmatic paragenesis is barren.”

“Would you mind translating that?”

Koplin grinned. “The origin and geological occurrence of a mineral is called its paragenesis. Magma, on the other hand, is the source of all matter; a liquid rock heated under pressure which turns solid to form igneous rock, perhaps better known as basalt or granite.”

“Fascinating,” Donner said dryly. “Then what you’re stating is that Novaya Zemlya is void of minerals.”

“You are singularly perceptive, Mr. Donner,” Koplin said.

“But how did you find traces of byzanium?” Seagram asked.

“On the thirteenth day, I was poking around the north slope of Bednaya Mountain and ran onto a waste dump.”’

“Waste dump?”

“A pile of rocks that had been removed during the excavation of a mine shaft. This particular dump happened to have minute traces of byzanium ore.”

The expressions on his interrogators’ faces suddenly went sober.

“The shaft entrance was cunningly obscured,” Koplin continued. “It took me the better part of the afternoon to figure which slope it was on.”

“One minute, Sid.” Seagram touched Koplin’s arm. “Are you saying the entrance to this mine was purposely concealed?”

“An old Spanish trick. The opening was filled until it was even with the natural slope of the hill.”

“Wouldn’t the waste dump have been on a direct line from the entrance?” Donner asked.

“Under normal circumstances, yes. But in this case they were spaced over a hundred yards apart, separated by a gradual arc that ran around the mountain’s slope to the west.”

“But you did discover the entrance?” Donner went on.

“The rails and ties for the ore cars had been removed and the track bed covered over, but I managed to trace its outline by moving off about fifteen hundred yards and studying the mountain’s slope through binoculars. What you couldn’t see when you were standing on top of it became quite clear from that distance. The exact location of the mine was then easy to determine.”

“Who would go to all that trouble to hide an abandoned mine in the Arctic?” Seagram asked no one in particular. “There’s no method or logic to it.”

“You’re only half right, Gene,” Koplin said. “The logic, I fear, remains an enigma; but the method was brilliantly executed by professionals-Coloradans.” The word came slowly, almost reverently. “They were the men who excavated the Bednaya Mountain mine. The muckers, the blasters, the jiggers, the drillers, the Cornishmen, the Irishmen, Germans, and Swedes. Not Russians, but men who emigrated to the United States and became the legendary hard-rock miners of the Colorado Rockies. How they came to be on the icy slopes of Bednaya Mountain is anybody’s guess, but these were the men who came and mined the byzanium and then vanished into the obscurity of the Arctic.”