The Ranger Boys in Space

by Hal Clement

"Because it would be more risk than I can allow you to take if you aren't armed, and it would probably get you into trouble with the law if you were. I have every respect for your common sense, but very few people your age could resist the temptation to use violence in such a situation."

  "We don't have weapons, and I don't see how we could arrest a spy anyway. What we could do is get a look at him—maybe a picture. I should think that might be a good deal of use." Even Peter nodded approval at this. Bowen was less easy to persuade.

  "How do you get this picture without his knowing it? I don't want someone chasing you with a gun to get the film away from you, and I don't see how he can help seeing the flash as you take the picture."

  Peter offered a solution to this.

  "Have the flash set up as a booby trap, so that he'll spring it himself—or at least think he did. Then he may look for the camera, but he won't be chasing us."

  "You mean you'll be inside, where it's safe? That seems sensible."

  "What good will we be inside?" Bart cut in. "The idea is for us to see things. Besides, unless one of us is either holding the camera when the flash is set off, or else gets it and carries it away afterward, what's to keep the spy from finding it?" Bowen thought for some moments.

  "I wish I could be out there to cover the business," he said at last, "but that will be a long time from now, if ever. Boys, I'm going to trust your judgement. I would like to be able to see this spy, but I would very much rather be able to keep the three of you around alive and healthy. I'm not going to make you promise anything, but I'm trusting you to look after yourselves first, and get pictures second. Make your plans carefully; you know the grounds here. I am going to have to sleep—if I can."

  4

  THE SPY

  THE Bowen house had about half an acre of ground, mostly at the rear. It stood about thirty yards from a fairly well-traveled street. The entrance drive came straight in from a front corner of the lot—the left, looking from the house—and went back to a garage, with a turning loop branching off to the front door. The lot itself was surrounded by a five-foot brick wall on all sides except toward the street; there, the only privacy came from a thick boxwood hedge the same height as the wall. There was no gate; the drive came between the end of the hedge and the wall.

  The sitting-room windows overlooked this drive, about halfway along that side of the house. Under them was a narrow flower bed. It was now March, and some of the early plants had grown tall enough to help conceal the recorder, which had been buried at this point. Across the drive was a row of tall bushes, forsythia and lilac for the most part. Some of the lilacs were old and stout enough to be called trees; the boys had sometimes climbed them when they were younger.

  Behind the house was an open lawn with a row of fruit trees on three sides. Between these and the wall the bushes continued all around the lot.

  The boys had known all this for years, of course, but for the first time they realized how easy it made things for anyone who wanted to approach the house unseen. The wall could be climbed at practically any point, under the cover of the lilacs; one whole side of the building was separated from the bushes only by the width of the drive, and the garage itself was almost concealed by them.

  Half an hour's discussion resulted in no better plan than that the three should conceal themselves in the bushes along the drive: one opposite the front of the house, one at the middle, and one near the garage in back. There would be no chance to intercept the spy if he came, but it should be possible to see him as he crossed the drive. Both the Ranger boys had cameras, and these were to be carried by their owners. A flash unit was placed in the flower bed a few feet from the box itself, and arranged to be fired by strings leading to the hiding places of the photographers.

  There had been no time for really ingenious booby-trapping, and in any case the boys did not want to be seen showing too much interest in the flower bed. Likely enough that they had betrayed themselves already.

  Taking seemingly casual walks through the neighborhood, they had kept careful watch for anyone who appeared to be unduly interested in the Bowen property, but they had not seen any such person. As soon as it was reasonably dark, therefore, the boys slipped out through the kitchen door, crawled over to the garage, and worked their way down the line of bushes toward their stations. Peter was to be closest to the street; he had no camera, but stood the best chance of actually seeing the spy if he went that way, since there was a street light fairly close to the entrance of the drive.

  Dart was to be in the middle, closest to the buried recorder, while Bart stayed near the garage. There was no way for them to communicate once they were posted; they would simply have to wait, as long as their patience permitted. None of them had thought to make any arrangements for reliefs; they had assumed without thinking that whoever was going to come would come fairly early. It occurred to each of the boys, as he settled down to his lonely watch and it was too late to do anything about it, that perhaps nothing would happen until two or three in the morning; even Dart admitted to himself that he might be a little slow with his camera by that time.

  As it turned out, they needn't have worried about a long wait, though the person who came for the recorder almost fooled them in another way. They had supposed without thinking very carefully about the matter that he would come in at the side of the property on which the device was buried; actually, he must have climbed the wall at the back, and instead of coming down through the bushes where the boys were hidden, kept close to the opposite side of the lot until he was level with the back of the house. From this point he crawled with great care past the kitchen door to the corner nearest the garage; it was here that Bart first saw him.

  There wasn't much to see—simply a dark patch, which at one moment was barely visible at the corner of the house, and by the next had worked its way between the building and the flower bed. Bart knew enough to look off to one side rather than directly at the thing, and was able to catch occasional glimpses as it moved slowly down toward Dart's station and the buried equipment. His hand tightened on the string with which he could fire the flashbulb, and he was already holding his camera, shutter open, so as to cover the moving figure; but he waited, hoping that there might be a chance to get a clear picture showing the spy's face.

  Now the dark figure had reached the recorder. Any doubt about its mission had now vanished. Bart wondered whether Peter had seen it; he was reasonably sure that Dart had. It was motionless now—either digging up the whole machine, or replacing its tape or wire with a new one. Any moment now it should turn away, back the way it had come, and for at least a moment should have its face toward Bart's camera. The boy once more tightened his hold on the string, and leaned forward with his eyes boring into the near-darkness.

  He never pulled his string, however. One instant he was staring tensely, ready to act; the next he had flung a forearm across aching eyes that saw nothing but a dancing mass of color. Dart had fired the flashbulb first.

  A split second later several shouts echoed along the drive. Bart's was simply a wordless howl of mingled pain and annoyance; the spy uttered a very similar cry, but Dart had something to say.

  "I've got him! Come and help, you fellows!"

  "You young idiot!" howled his brother. "What do you think you're doing? Remember what Uncle Jim said? And how can I help you after you blind me?" In spite of this objection, he put down his camera and made his way toward the scene of activity.

  Peter gave no answer in words; he simply came at top speed. By sheer luck, he had never seen the spy at all, and had not even been looking toward the house when Dart fired the flashbulb. Consequently he was not delayed by being blinded.

  Dart continued to talk; apparently he was not completely occupied.

  "I know we weren't supposed to get hurt," he said, "but this is just a kid; he couldn't hurt anyone." It was rather fortunate that Peter arrived just as this sentence was finished, for the spy promptly did his best to prove his captor wrong. A very hard
fist caught Dart in the ribs—a few inches too high to wind him, but quite firmly enough to be felt. He tried to shift his grip to prevent another blow, and in the process the captive almost wriggled free. It was at this point that Peter caught the spy's free arm, arresting a swing which probably would have ended on one of Dart's eyes.

  Even with both arms held, the small intruder did not seem inclined to give up the fight. He began making extremely painful use of his feet, and for several seconds the group looked rather like a troupe of dancers as Peter and Dart endeavored to keep their shins out of harm's way. Then Bart arrived, with his sight sufficiently restored to enable him to help, and the three of them finally managed to get all of their captive's limbs under control.

  "I think he has eel blood in him," remarked Peter. "Who has the light? Let's see what we have here."

  "Do that, by all means." Bowen's voice came from the window, which had just been opened. The boys had not realized that he could move the wheel chair himself. "We'll let your captive explain what he's up to, and then I think a little more explaining is due from other people."

  Dart was glad that the darkness hid his worried expression. He also hoped Mrs. Lynn had not heard the disturbance; she had not been told about the evening's program, and had firm ideas about sleeping requirements of teenagers.

  "Well, Uncle Jim, I know you said we weren't to take any chances; but when I saw how little he was, I decided there wasn't any danger........ "

  "Bright, aren't you?" Dart's remark brought both words and action from the captive. "I may be smaller than you are, but I'll take you on any time, at anything you want, just as long as you'll keep your big bodyguards off." One of his feet jerked free from Bart's grip and was planted firmly in his younger brother's stomach, and Dart was silent for some moments. The aim had been better this time. Then a flashlight held by Bowen illuminated the whole group, and the Rangers and Peter looked with interest at their captive. It was just as well that they did; it was their only chance for some time.

  He was small enough to explain why Dart had called him a "kid"—several inches shorter than Dart himself; he could not have weighed much over a hundred pounds. His reddish hair was cut very short, and formed a brush over a face which looked at the moment as though its owner carried a permanent chip on his shoulder. It was hard to judge his age, but Bowen, making allowance for the poor light, decided that it was less than Dart's, and wondered how such a youngster had become involved in this sort of undertaking— and why anyone would use such an agent. From a look at that stubborn face, it seemed that it was going to be hard to find out, but there was no harm trying.

  "Young fellow," he said, as severely as he could, "I

  suppose you see that you've managed to get into a good deal of trouble."

  "I'm not worried," was the answer.

  "I'm not to blame for your lack of common sense. The fact is that you're trespassing, and there's not a policeman in Maryland who wouldn't cheerfully arrest you on a charge of larceny........ "

  "What's that?"

  "Stealing, in plain English."

  "What have I stolen?" The young face wore an impudent expression. "I haven't taken a thing of yours."

  "No? Boys, did he get the tape from that recorder?"

  "I think so," said Bart and Dart simultaneously. "Just a minute and we'll see." Dart started to go through the captive's pockets, but stopped at his next words.

  "What if I did?" asked the redhead. "It isn't yours, so how could I be stealing it from you?"

  "It's on our property. Whose is it if it isn't ours? What would you tell a policeman?"

  "It's—you're pretty smart, aren't you?" The youngster saw the trap in time, thereby earning the startled respect of Dart and Bart, who had not. Bowen showed no sign of annoyance, but continued his questioning through the window.

  "What's your name?"

  "Wouldn't you like to know?" That answer told Bowen more about the youngster's background than the redhead ever guessed, but the man did not betray the fact. "Was it you who placed the microphone inside this house? That would certainly constitute an illegal act, wouldn't it? Breaking into someone's kitchen, even if you only left things instead of stealing them, is quite "

  "It wasn't........ " the captive interrupted, but did not finish his sentence. His lips pressed firmly together in an obvious determination to say no more.

  "So you don't always catch the traps in time, my young friend? 'It wasn't the kitchen,' you were going to say? Quite right, but how did you know?" There was a moment of silence.

  "There's a blower in the wall at the back; the kitchen must be there."

  "Very good; but if you knew that already, what bothered you a moment ago? And did you see that blower when you came tonight? Pretty dark for it to show up, isn't it?" He paused, and continued more gently, "I think you can see we have a case. We'll talk this over inside, where everyone will be more comfortable, and perhaps you can convince us that there's no real need to turn you over to the police. However, you must realize that we have pictures of you— I take it, boys, that you did get pictures?"

  "I guess so," replied Bart. "My camera was open and pointed in the right direction when the flash went off. We won't really know until they're developed."

  "All right, take a couple of more shots while you have the chance. Then our young friend will know that we can always have him picked up if it becomes necessary."

  "We don't have any more flashbulbs out here, Uncle Jim. We'll bring him inside, and take them there while you talk to him."

  "All right."

  But it wasn't all right. The spy had ideas of his own on the subject of pictures; for one thing, he knew perfectly well that he had not been facing the bushes when the flash was touched off—if he had been, he would not have been blinded by it and these clumsy fellows would never have caught him. However, if they were to try again, he could hardly count on their not getting good pictures, and if they did, his usefulness would be over.

  As a result of this conclusion, a rather interesting thing happened. As the boys turned toward the front door, with Dart and Bart each holding an arm of the young spy and Peter walking just ahead, the redhead vanished—at least, that was how the brothers described it later. For a split second no one realized just how it had been done; then they saw that he had somehow twisted his arms simultaneously away from the hands holding them and ducked away from Peter.

  For a moment it looked as though the attempt had been wasted, for the small fugitive's move had brought him almost against the side of the house with all three of the boys blocking his way to freedom; but as they closed in in a concerted rush, the spy went up. One hand on the window ledge and one on a shutter, he leaped; as Dart and Bart collided below him, he braced a foot against the ledge and dived over them with seeming recklessness. Peter, slower than the others, had not become involved in their tangle, but he had no chance against the nimble little figure. He landed almost within arm's length of Peter, but had somersaulted in the air so that he came down ready to run—in fact, already running.

  By the time the others had picked themselves up and started in pursuit, the spy was halfway down the drive; as the pursuers' footsteps warned him that he might be caught in a straight race, he swerved toward the wall, reached it at a gap in the bushes, and went over it in a way that brought a whistle of admiration from all three boys. When they got their heads over the wall, there was no sign of the redhead; he was undoubtedly hiding in the neighborhood, but searching for him in the dark was obviously a waste of time. The crestfallen boys went back to the house, one of them, at least, making plans to take up a new sport after the spring vacation.

  5

  PETER TALKS FAST

  UNCLE JIM showed a mixture of annoyance and sympathy the next morning. He had slept better than usual, which gave some hope that he might eventually recover from his "long fall," and this was probably the source of most of the sympathy. He expressed most of his annoyance, not at the spy's escape, but at what he called the com
plete lack of horse sense shown in the original attempt to capture him. He did admit that Dart's recognition of the spy as a young boy was some excuse.

  "But there are kids that age who have been arrested for carrying knives," he added, "and you were still taking a chance. I'm forgiving you this time, but don't get the idea that I'm pleased."

  "If we'd kept him you wouldn't be so bothered."

  "It's because you lost him that I'm forgiving you. You knew perfectly well that I didn't want to turn him over to the police, and that there was no other legal way of keeping him. What would we have done with him? That was another reason why I didn't want you to do any more than get pictures, and I'm just as glad he got away. How did the pictures come out, by the way?"

  The boys had wanted to examine the pictures the night before, but Uncle Jim had ordered them to bed— Peter had, of course, telephoned his home long before to warn his guardians that he would be spending the night at the Rangers'. Dart's objection that it would take only a few seconds for the films to develop had not been allowed. Now, at Bowen's question, the brothers got their cameras, pressed the "develop" buttons, and a moment later the group was examining the prints.

  Both showed the spy, but neither showed his face at all clearly—Bart's, of course, did not show it at all; the small intruder had been facing away from him when the flashbulb was fired. The other picture was in profile, but was not as clear as it might have been, and the boys at least had one defense for their action. If it had not been for the attempted capture, no one would have been in a position to recognize the spy, should they ever meet him again.

  "I don't suppose we will, though," said Peter. "With all the stuff in this morning's paper about the satellite station, it would hardly do much good to spy on us— or on anyone connected with the business."

  "You may be right in a way; but that was also true to some extent before. It was widely known for more than a week that there would be a news release last night. Someone must feel that we're keeping something concealed; and if they believe that, they'll go right on spying. I suppose in a way that might be good; we released the facts to get ideas from the public, and if these folks listen to us they may actually learn less than they would in other ways. I've been in the business from the beginning, and admit I'm out of ideas."