- Switch off external phone!. You hear, Alexey? - Dauge over the ear so Bulls even has shuddered has cried. - Aleshka-a-a!.
- Yes that you shout! I have switched off for a long time.
- And, has switched off, - has lowered a voice of Dauge. - And I to you cry the head off that - as in wood...
Bu-bu-bu-bu... From a curling veil the fiery sphere was pulled out, has flied up and has broken up with, a deafening crash.
- Beautifully! - with admiration has spoken Dauge. - I will go I will call Vladimir...
- It is not necessary to disturb him, - Ermakov reluctantly has filtered.
The eye from unimaginably huge black mountain on horizon could not tear off bulls. At last he has understood - before it a
smoke column. It was not believed that this gloomy construction consists of steam, the heated gases and dust particles.
Only having got accustomed, it was possible to distinguish slowly-steady movement of smooth walls hardly appreciable on
such distance upwards, to the low sky. For an instant to it became not on itself. An immense pipe as if stuck into a planet
body, soaked up in itself thousand tons of sand, a dust and rubble, throwing out all it in atmosphere. There, on slopes of
black "mountain", with mad speed rush now in the sky of a cloud stone krosheva, heated to improbable temperatures.
Bulls has regained consciousness.
- How further, Anatoly Borisovich? What will be a route? Ermakov, having sat down on a turret, considered Golconda in the
field-glass.
- It geologists will tell. Possibly, we will go along coast of Golconda to type a material... We will in passing make a card... It is
necessary to search for a place for raketodroma.
Geologists have got out of the hatch. Dauge heatedly swung rukami: - You only have a look, Vladimir! Same geological
accident! Cataclysm! Pinch me! It is lines knows, how it is excellent!.
The Jurkovsky has inertly sat down near to the commander. It was felt that to it all the same. Dauge has jumped off
downwards, its cap was low inclined over soil. Minute he peered, then has deeply started hands in gloves in a thick layer of
a black dust and, having typed in a handful, has brought it to the helmet of Jurkovskogo:- Pitch sand! Look!. Anatoly
Borisovich, we will begin here... No! It has again scrambled on bronju: - Is not present, we will go there, further! - also has
waved the smeared glove towards a smoky veil. Is a treasury! You understand? That there gold! Same unknown deposits!
More likely there, forward! - it is dangerous, Ioganych, - has noticed Bulls. - lines knows that there it is created...