by Jay Williams
Danny bit his lip. Then he said, “Gosh, I didn’t mean to let that out. The ray is still a secret.”
“Well, I—” Mr. Elswing began. “The ray, eh?” He cleared his throat to cover a smile of disbelief, and went on, “I won’t say a word to anyone.”
“Will you promise?” Danny said earnestly.
The meteorologist nodded and raised his right hand. “I give you my most solemn promise that I won’t breathe a word about your—what did you call it?”
“Well, we haven’t any actual name for it yet. Joe calls it IT.”
“All right. You have my promise, whatever its name is.” Mr. Elswing glanced at the clock above the soda counter. “I must run. I just happened to see you through the window, and thought I’d say hello.”
He clucked to Vanderbilt, who rose up ponderously and gave Irene a farewell look and a longing sigh. “Bring your machine around to the weather station tomorrow,” he added. “It sounds as though it has possibilities. We’ll keep it secret, but anything that can give me all the tea I want is worth studying. And I like to encourage young amateur scientists.”
He waved gaily to them, and went off with Vanderbilt at his heels. Danny looked after them with a sullen frown.
“What’s the matter?” said Irene. “I think he’ll really keep his promise. Is that what you’re worried about? He may be a little touched, but he looks honest.”
“’Tisn’t that,” said Danny. “It’s what he called me: amateur!”
He rested his chin gloomily on both hands. “What does he think I am, some kid in first grade? And you know what?”
“What?”
“I got the feeling that he didn’t really believe me. About the ray, I mean.”
“Well, if he didn’t, so much the better,” said Irene comfortingly. “That’s the best way to keep it secret, isn’t it?”
“I guess so,” said Danny. “But it’s very insulting to me.”
“What’s insulting?” Joe had just come in, and he slid onto the stool next to Danny’s. “Something more insulting than what I’ve got?”
He grinned, but it was a crooked grin. One of his eyes was puffy, and the skin around it was already turning the rich colors of an autumn sunset.
“Golly! What happened to you?” Danny asked.
Irene leaned over, looking troubled. “Does it hurt?”
“Only when I look through it,” said Joe wryly. “It was a present from Snitcher Philips.”
Eddie Philips was a stocky, broad-shouldered boy who was known to his schoolmates as “Snitcher” because of his bad habit of telling on other people.
“I met him on the corner of Jefferson Street,” Joe continued, gingerly touching his eye with one finger. “I don’t know why he got so mad. All I said was, ‘Good morning, Eddie.’ ”
“Is that all?” said Danny in surprise.
“Sure, that’s all.” Joe waved to the counterman. “Let’s order. I guess I’ll have a hot fudge sundae for me, and a piece of ice for my eye.”
They got their ice cream, and Irene kindly gave Joe the cherry from the top of her sundae, while Danny gave him a piece of banana from his. Joe cheered up and began to eat.
“Seems kind of funny that he should punch you in the eye just for saying hello,” Irene said, spooning up caramel sauce.
“Oh, he was in a bad mood. I said, ‘Good morning,’ and then I asked where he was going. He said he was going to visit an uncle of his who works at the weather station.”
“Mr. Elswing? His uncle?”
“Yep. So then I said, ‘Oh, you mean that nut? No wonder he has a split personality. And then he said, ‘You keep your trap shut or I’ll split your personality.’ And I said something like ‘What do you do at the weather station, Snitcher? Do you snitch on what the weather’s going to be?’ And we went on and exchanged a few more friendly jokes that way, and all of a sudden he hit me.”
“Oh. I see,” said Irene with a grin.
“Maybe he got irritated when I said we were going to have a medal made for him with a big open mouth on it. How did I know he had no sense of humor?” Joe dug up a huge spoonful of ice cream and swallowed it. “But I found out,” he added.
Danny stirred the remains of his banana bonanza, and shook his head. “Snitcher’s getting to be more of a bully every day. Somebody ought to teach him a lesson.”
“Sure. But not me,” said Joe. “I don’t like to teach anybody who hits so hard.”
“No, not you—not alone.” Danny put down his spoon. “But listen—do you want to get even with Snitcher?”
“’Course I do. But—”
“You’ve heard that old saying, ‘an eye for an eye’?”
“Ha! You’d never get close enough to Snitcher to hit him in the eye.”
“That’s not what I mean,” Danny said mysteriously. “I’ve got a great idea.” He jumped down from his stool. “Come on.”
“You mean, we’ll all gang up on him?” said Joe. “I don’t think that will—”
“Just relax,” Danny said. “Follow me. Have I ever steered you wrong?”
“Yes,” said Joe glumly.
CHAPTER NINE
“You May Fire When Ready”
The three friends cautiously approached the rear of the weather station from the cover of a clump of raspberry bushes. Behind him, Joe pulled IT, set on a little four-wheeled wagon, a relic of his younger days.
Danny put a finger to his lips. “Do you understand the plan?” he whispered. “Any last-minute questions?”
The others shook their heads.
“Okay. Synchronize your watches.”
“Roger,” Irene whispered. Joe was silent. “Well, Joe?” Danny said softly.
“I haven’t got a watch,” said Joe. “I don’t even know what time it is.”
Danny scowled at him. “Sh!” he said. “Let’s go.
Softly they edged forward until they were only a couple of dozen yards from the side of the building. Then Danny dropped to his stomach in the tall grass. Motioning the others to wait, he wormed ahead, working his way from the back of the building to the side. Holding his breath, he got into the shelter of a large rock, and raised his head. Then he chuckled softly in satisfaction.
He was facing that same large window through which Joe had first seen the dog, Vanderbilt. Inside, Snitcher bent over the long table, on which the teakettle steamed as usual. He was carving his initials in the table top with his pocketknife.
“Aha,” Danny said to himself. “So he’s alone. His uncle would never stand for that. And the teakettle’s on. Here goes the second Boston Tea Party.”
He inched back to his friends. Carefully they pulled the wagon up behind the rock, and Joe propped up the front of IT with flat stones so that the nozzles pointed at the window. Irene stood behind them, judging the elevations and whispering directions.
When all was ready, Danny sighted along the nozzles. Then he whispered into Joe’s ear, “You may fire when ready, Gridley.” Joe closed the switch.
For a long moment, nothing happened.
Then, slowly, above Snitcher’s head, a cloud began to form. At first, it looked like nothing more than heavy steam from the kettle. Then it thickened, grew darker and more substantial, and began piling into thunderheads. Snitcher, still carving away at the table top, stirred and glanced uneasily around. A rumble of thunder came that even the three watchers could hear. Snitcher looked out the window at the clear sky, with a puzzled expression.
A few drops must have fallen on his head, for he suddenly stared upward. He stood gaping in astonishment. A little bolt of lightning, about a foot long, shot down. It hit him directly on the top of the head, and knocked him sprawling. At the same instant, a furious rainstorm poured down on him. In moments, he and the floor directly around him were drenched.
Irene had jumped to th
e top of the rock to see better, and she stood with both hands clapped over her mouth, strangling with laughter. From her vantage point, she could see Snitcher lying on the floor with the rain beating on him. He was making wild motions with his hands, as if trying to chase away the cloud. She saw Vanderbilt, who had evidently been lying down in a corner, come over to Snitcher and begin licking his face. Snitcher pushed him away, and got to his feet. Then, red-faced and dripping, he kicked the dog.
Irene gasped. At the top of her voice, she shouted, “You leave that puppy alone, you big bully!”
Snitcher went to the window. “So it’s you!” he howled, as Danny rose up to stand beside Irene. “I might have known!”
“Dry up, Snitch!” Joe called, getting up also.
“Need an umbrella?” Danny asked.
Snitcher gurgled with fury. Then, finding his voice, he said, “I’ll fix you, all of you. Vanderbilt—fetch!”
Vanderbilt put his immense paws on the window sill and heaved himself through the window. He bounded to Irene, and paused long enough to give her face a tremendous lick. She lost her balance and fell flat. Then, seizing the handle of the wagon in his mouth, Vanderbilt began to drag the whole thing away.
Joe grabbed for the machine. He caught it by one handle. It toppled from the wagon. Danny, in the heat of the moment, forgot his promise to himself and fell on it. Vanderbilt went galumphing away with the wagon trailing behind him in the air like a banner.
Snitcher was yelling, “Uncle! Uncle!”
“Ha!” said Joe, with satisfaction. “We made him say uncle”
“Not that kind of uncle,” Irene gasped, staggering up. In the room, behind Snitcher, they saw the scowling face of Mr. Elswing, dark as a thundercloud itself.
“Quick!” said Danny. “Pick up the machine, you two. Let’s get out of here.”
Mr. Elswing was shaking his fists. His round face was contorted with anger, and he was roaring something which the very violence of his rage made it impossible to understand.
But the three friends did not wait for a translation. Picking up the machine by the handles, Irene and Joe made off as fast as they could, with Danny right behind them.
CHAPTER TEN
“What’s Wrong with IT?”
That evening, after dinner, Irene came over from next door to visit Danny. The two settled down cozily in their weather-station alcove, with IT on the floor between them and a pitcher of lemonade on the table.
Sipping at a glassful, Irene said, “I wonder if we oughtn’t to do something about Mr. Elswing —report him, or something?”
Danny poured himself some more lemonade. “Who could we report him to?” he said. “Who’d believe us?”
“Well, maybe other people know about his split personality. Maybe a doctor would believe us. He might get really violent, you know. It’s dangerous.”
“Dangerous? You think he’d really—hurt somebody?”
“You never can tell.”
“I guess you’re right. Maybe we’d better—” The words died on Danny’s lips. He gave a violent start. The glass of lemonade leaped from his fingers and broke on the weather machine’s metal case. “Glurk!” he said.
“Glurk? What do you mean, glurk?” asked Irene, in annoyance. “Now look what you’ve done.”
Danny gulped like a goldfish and motioned weakly at the doorway.
“‘Glurk’ isn’t even English,” Irene continued. Then she saw what he was doing, and turned toward the door.
“Good evening,” said Mr. Elswing quietly.
“G-g-glurk!” said Irene.
The smiling face of Mrs. Dunn appeared behind Mr. Elswing.
“You have a visitor, dear,” she said to Danny. “You know Mr. Elswing, don’t you?”
Danny nodded, still unable to speak.
“Where are your manners, Dan?” said his mother. “Can’t you get up and say hello properly?”
Danny had to try twice before his legs would support him. “H-h-h-h—” was all he could say.
Mr. Elswing was holding Joe’s wagon. “My nephew said that you left this behind you,” he explained. “It is yours, isn’t it?”
“Yes,” said Danny.
Mrs. Dunn frowned, and silently shaped words with her lips.
Danny caught his mother’s eye. “Er—yes, thank you.”
Mrs. Dunn smiled again. “I’ll leave you then,” she said. “I know Danny has lots of questions he wants to ask you, Mr. Elswing. He and Irene have been so interested in the weather lately.”
When she had gone, Mr. Elswing said, “I’m sorry we didn’t have a chance to chat together today.”
Irene and Danny stared at him, and then at each other.
Mr. Elswing, without noticing, went on in a gentle tone, “You know, that was a terrible mess you made in the weather station. And I’m afraid some of the papers and instruments got rather soaked. Eddie told me a fantastic story about how it happened—something about a little rain cloud, and how you struck him with lightning.” He chuckled. “Now, I want you to understand that I used to play games like that when I was young, too. I sympathize with you. But really, you mustn’t shoot water pistols around the weather station from now on. There are some delicate and expensive instruments there that could be ruined by water.”
“But, Mr. Elswing,” Danny interrupted. “It’s true.”
“I beg your pardon? What’s true?”
“We—we did strike Sni—Eddie with lightning. And it wasn’t water pistols, it was IT.”
“It was it? It was what?”
“IT.”
“It what? What it?” said Mr. Elswing, looking bewildered.
“He means the ionic transmitter,” Irene put in. “The rain-making ray we told you about.”
Mr. Elswing’s eyebrows slowly rose. “Oh, come, now,” he said. “You don’t seriously expect me to believe that.”
Danny’s face took on a determined expression. “I’ll prove it,” he said. “I’m not an amateur. You’ll see.”
He reached for the machine, but Irene clucked at him. “Okay,” he said. “I won’t touch it. You drag it out, Irene, and aim it at the sink. I’ll turn on the faucet.”
As Mr. Elswing watched, Irene first cleaned away the broken glass, and then slid the machine out into the laboratory. Danny twisted the faucet so that a trickle of water began to run into the basin. Irene aimed the machine as well as she could and, at a nod from Danny, threw the switch.
“Very interesting,” said Mr. Elswing. “What is supposed to happen?”
“Just wait,” Danny begged. “You’ll see.”
A long moment went by, then another. Still, nothing happened.
“Well,” said Mr. Elswing kindly, “don’t be disappointed. That’s the sort of thing that always happened to my inventions when I was a boy.”
“But I don’t understand,” Danny said, clenching his fists. “What’s the matter with it?”
“I don’t know,” Irene said. “It—it really doesn’t seem to be working, Dan.”
“You’ll show it to me another time,” Mr. Elswing said. “I’m afraid I’ve got to run along. Meanwhile, please remember what I said. Don’t play with water, or water pistols—or even make-believe rain makers—in the weather station.”
“But—” said Danny.
“I can find my way out. Good night. And do drop in and visit me any time you’re in the neighborhood.
With a wide smile and a wave of his hand, Mr. Elswing left them. The two young people looked after him, and then turned to IT.
Danny rubbed his head with both hands. “What’s wrong?” he groaned. “Oh, my gosh— what’s wrong with IT?”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Danny Makes a Vow... Again
“Well,” Danny said, sighing wretchedly, “there’s only one thing for it. I hate to break my
resolution, but I’m going to have to touch the machine.”
“Oh, Dan!” said Irene.
“No help for it. I’ve got to inspect it myself and see if I can find out what happened.”
He snapped on a bright work-light that hung over one of the lab benches. Then, with a shrug, he took hold of one of the handles of the machine and pulled it close to the bench. Between them, he and Irene lifted it to the stone surface.
“Hm. Switch is okay,” Danny muttered, inspecting it. “I thought maybe one of the connections was loose, but the wires are soldered to the terminals. Let’s see....”
He pushed the machine around. Then he snapped, “Look!”
“At what?”
“Why, don’t you see? One of the nozzles is missing.”
Irene stared. Sure enough, one of the twin tubes on the front of the machine was gone. “Why on earth didn’t we notice it sooner?” she said.
“It’s easy to overlook something like that. We were excited, and rushed, on the way home. And the light isn’t very bright in the alcove.” Irene bent forward. “The nozzles screw onto these threaded projections on the front,” she said. “It must have been loose, and when Vanderbilt grabbed the wagon and the machine fell over, the nozzle dropped off.”
“Then it’s somewhere around the weather station,” Danny said, straightening up and dusting his hands together. “We ought to go right now and look for it.”
He went to one of the windows and threw it open. Irene came and stood next to him. “It’s awfully late, Dan,” she said.
“Yes. But there’s a moon. Couldn’t we search by moonlight?”
They leaned on the sill together, looking out at the sky. “It’s beginning to cloud up, though,” said Irene. “See—there’s a big dark cloud coming from the west. And—and, Dan—”
“What?”
“Well... maybe there’s something to Joe’s crazy story about Mr. Elswing and the full moon.”
Danny rubbed his nose pensively. “Nah!” he said. “Anyway ... I don’t think so. But I guess nothing can happen to the nozzle during the night. And we would find it more easily by daylight.”
