New Adventures of the Mad Scientists' Club

by Bertrand R. Brinley

  8:00 p.m. I think Henry just ignited a couple of the spin rockets. There are a lot of sparks flying out around it. Yeah! It looks like a Fourth of July pinwheel up there. Now it's zooming straight up in a spiral. He must have cut in the lift jets. I think Billy Dahr's trying to pick it up in a pair of field glasses. He's holding something up to his eyes. Now he's backing up to get a better view. There's a whole bunch of people around him. Oops! He fell flat on his back in that petunia bed behind the bandstand. I don't think the saucer's spinning anymore. Tell Henry to shut off the beacon light! I can just barely see the thing now. I think it's heading back over the lake.

  8:15 p.m. There are still a lot of people in the square. They're walking around talking to each other and pointing up in the sky and rubbernecking all over the place. Some of them will probably stay here all night, hoping to see the thing again.

  And that was the end of the first report on The Flying Sorcerer's appearance over Mammoth Falls. The rest of the gang back at the zinc mine managed to recapture it, but only after a pretty hairy chase all over the top of the ridge. As far as the people in town were concerned, the saucer just went out of sight when Henry shut the beacon light off. But he had to turn it on again while the thing was still over Strawberry Lake, so he could tell how to maneuver the craft back to the mine. The main trouble was he couldn't tell what direction the nozzles were pointing when he'd give a signal for another squirt of carbon dioxide, and sometimes he'd just push it farther off course. Fortunately a light breeze came up out of the east, and the saucer eventually floated toward the mine of its own accord. It got caught in a slight updraft just as it reached the hills, and though Henry let a lot of the helium escape in a hurry, the thing just kept bobbing up and down in the updraft and almost popped over the ridge. Just when they thought they had lost it, one of the grappling hooks caught in the topmost branches of a tall ash and Dinky shinnied up to tie a line to it.

  We decided we wouldn't fly the saucer again until we had added a rudder over the point where the propulsion nozzles projected from the underside of the body. This would give it more directional stability, and also tell us what direction the nozzles were pointing.

  The next day the Mammoth Falls Gazette had the story plastered all over its front page. MYSTERIOUS OBJECT SEEN IN SKY. MANY RESIDENTS TELL OF SIGHTING FLYING SAUCER. CONSTABLE DAHR GIVES EYEWITNESS DESCRIPTION OF STRANGE CRAFT. AIR FORCE PROMISES INVESTIGATION. Freddy Muldoon brought some copies to the clubhouse so we could cut out the articles to keep our scrapbook up to date, and Mortimer Dalrymple read them all out loud. They were pretty wild.

  One man claimed the saucer had zoomed off at five thousand miles an hour when it went out of sight. When a reporter asked him how he could tell it was moving that fast, he said, "I'm a good judge of speed!" Another man said the thing was about the size of a house, and it would zoom up to twenty thousand feet and then come back down again as though it was looking for a place to land. Several people said that if you looked straight at the thing it made you feel dizzy, and one man said he was blinded for about five minutes by an intense beam of light that zapped him right in the eyes. A woman swore she saw a man jump out of the craft and parachute down to earth, but nobody else would agree with her. There were many reports of a loud humming noise coming from the saucer, and some people commented on a strange smell in the air.

  "Hey! That smell's not a bad idea," said Mortimer. "Let's drop a load of stink bombs next time."

  "Maybe we could make the thing cackle and lay a few rotten eggs," mused Freddy.

  Even Henry laughed at the possibilities this suggested. "That's something to think about," he admitted, "but it's too early for stunts like that. We don't want to tip our hand yet."

  The next day's paper carried an interview with Colonel March, the commander at Westport Field. The Colonel said he had made a full report on the Mammoth Falls "incident" to the Project Blue Book office at Wright-Patterson Field in Ohio. "It is their job to investigate all reports of unidentified flying objects," he told the Gazette, "and they have promised to send a team of investigators here immediately."

  The investigators, headed by a professor of psychology from Columbia University, showed up that very day, in fact. But they were very secretive about their investigation. They wouldn't make any statements for publication, except to say that there was nothing unusual about the "Mammoth Falls sightings," as far as they could tell. One member of the team, a professor of physics, said that meteorological records showed there had been a temperature inversion in the Mammoth Falls area the day the phenomenon was seen, and that "aerial mirages are not uncommon under such conditions." This explanation, of course, satisfied no one.

  The team spent three days in town interviewing eyewitnesses, many of whom, we were sure, hadn't seen anything at all. The day after they left town we flew The Flying Sorcerer again.

  On its second voyage the saucer performed well, and Mortimer broadcast some weird sound effects over the speakers to satisfy those people who had thought they heard a loud humming noise coming from the craft. But as soon as the thing was sighted somebody called the Air Force at Westport Field to report it. The Air Force claimed there was nothing on their radar, but after they had several calls they agreed to scramble two chase planes to investigate.

  We didn't know what was going on, of course, but we did hear the jets screaming overhead as they passed over town on their takeoff. We guessed what it meant, and Homer called Henry on the radio in time to get the beacon light on the saucer turned off before the planes could circle back on their search pattern. Henry headed the craft for the hills at full thrust. From the zinc mine he could see the two jets catch the last rays of the sun as they banked to return, and he figured there wouldn't be time to get The Flying Sorcerer back to the hills before they would sight it. But darkness was closing in fast, and there might be a chance if he could bring it in low over the lake where it was almost dark as night.

  The idea was a good one, but in his excitement Henry let too much helium escape and The Flying Sorcerer plopped into the lake before it reached the far shore, with its carbon dioxide fuel exhausted. It floated like a cork, though, and when we managed to make our way through the dense woods on the western shore a couple of hours later, we found it sitting like a duck on a pond about two hundred yards out in the lake. Jeff and Mortimer swam out and took it in tow, and when they brought it to shore we nudged it into one of the deep coves that reach back among the fingers of the hills in that area. We camouflaged it as well as we could with branches and leaves, and left it there until we could figure out how to get it back in the air again.

  What we didn't know at the time was that the pilot of one of the chase planes had caught sight of it just before it settled into the murky shadows below the horizon, and had managed to train his gun cameras on it. The pilot figured he had the first picture of a flying saucer ever taken by an Air Force plane, and the Information Officer at Westport Field lost no time in getting the photo spread across the front page of the Gazette the next morning.

  If we thought we were causing a stir before, it was nothing compared to what happened now. Colonel March didn't have to request an investigation this time. All sorts of amateur "investigators" of flying saucers and psychic phenomena descended on Mammoth Falls, and the Project Blue Book officials set up a field office in the Town Hall. The pilot who took the picture found himself taking lie detector tests. Then he was sent to Wright-Patterson Air Force Base for a mental examination, so none of the amateur investigators or the press could talk to him. Lieutenant Graham, the Information Officer, got bawled out for releasing the picture to the newspaper before the Air Force could authenticate it. Colonel March found himself right in the middle. He was being harassed by reporters for a statement, and the Pentagon was telling him to keep his mouth shut.

  Nobody knew what had happened to the saucer after the pilot lost sight of it, and rumors were flying around town that the thing had crashed in the hills and little green men had been seen trying to
thumb rides from motorists. There was scarcely anybody on the streets after dark, and Lem Perkins refused to make milk deliveries until after the sun came up. There was a regular panic among housewives when some dolt started a rumor that all the hens in the area were laying radioactive eggs, and Mayor Scragg had to ask the Department of Agriculture to test all the eggs in the stores. Effajean Lightbody, who is president of the Mammoth Falls Woman's Club, wrote a letter to the Gazette asking the Mayor to put a curfew into effect after eight P.M.; and Abner Sharples, who wants to be Mayor, told the Lions Club that if he was running the town he'd ask the Governor to send in the National Guard so people could sleep at night.

  During the daytime a lot of adventurous volunteers were scouring the hills west of Strawberry Lake, hoping to find a crew of Martian astronauts waiting for an invitation to the White House, but nobody found anything. Harmon Muldoon, Freddy's cousin, led a group of searchers to the old zinc mine but we had moved all our radio gear out of there, and the place looked as abandoned as ever. We figured we'd just lay low for a while and let human nature take its course. It did, the very next day.

  Freddy and I were helping Henry mow his back lawn, when Mrs. Mulligan called from the kitchen door to say Henry had an important visitor. She acted all flustered and excited.

  "I'll bet I know who that is," Henry said with a nervous little laugh. "You guys better come in with me."

  We went inside to find Colonel March sitting in the big Boston rocker in Mrs. Mulligan's living room. He looked pretty haggard and his uniform was a little crumpled, but he was just as cheerful as ever. Mrs. Mulligan was darting about the room picking up papers and wiping the dust off things with her apron. "Excuse me," she said, "I'll just be a minute!" And with that she swept a handful of peanut shells off an end table into her apron pocket and disappeared into the kitchen.

  "I was just driving by and thought I'd drop in and say 'hello,'" said the Colonel as he got up to shake hands.

  "Hello!" said Henry.

  "You won't be able to drive much farther," said Freddy Muldoon. "This is a dead end street."

  The Colonel chuckled indulgently and tweaked Freddy's left ear as he settled back into his seat. Then he looked straight at Henry and said very casually, "What have you been up to lately?"

  "Nothing much," said Henry.

  "Nothing much?"

  "The same old stuff," Henry shrugged.

  The Colonel fished in his pocket for a cigarette. "What do you think of all the excitement in town?" he asked.

  "What excitement?" said Freddy Muldoon.

  The Colonel chuckled again and lit his cigarette. "I mean all this business about flying saucers," he explained.

  "Oh, that! Some people are real kooks!" said Freddy.

  "What do you think, Henry?"

  "I think it's very amusing," said Henry, rubbing his nose.

  "Yes, I suppose it is amusing," the Colonel agreed, "but I haven't been able to get any sleep for three nights in a row now."

  "That's too bad," said Henry, clasping his hands over one knee.

  The conversation lapsed and the Colonel stared at the ceiling for a while. Then he shifted uneasily in his seat and started to twirl his hat between his knees. Finally, he cleared his throat and said, "I was thinking you boys might be able to help me out."

  "We're not much good on insomnia," said Henry.

  "Why don't you go see a doctor?" suggested Freddy.

  The Colonel laughed again, a little bitterly. "I don't think I need a doctor," he said. "But if we could cut this investigation short, I might be able to get some sleep."

  There was another silence. In the middle of it Mrs. Mulligan came bustling in with a cup of tea for Colonel March and a plate of cucumber sandwiches. "Won't you have a cup of tea, Colonel March? It will do you good," she said. "You must be a very busy man just now. My, isn't this flying saucer business a caution, though. Excuse me, I must get my wash out on the line." And she disappeared into the kitchen again.

  The Colonel smiled his appreciation, but looked askance at the sandwiches. "Cucumber sandwiches?" he said uncertainly.

  "Yes! They're very good," said Henry.

  "Have one," said Freddy, taking a handful. "They make you burp."

  "I might try just one," said the Colonel. "I haven't had time for any lunch today." He took one sandwich and munched it speculatively. Then he fastened his light blue eyes directly on me.

  "To get back to what we were discussing," he said, "have any of you boys seen any flying saucers around here?"

  I looked at Freddy, and Freddy looked at Henry, and Henry uncrossed his legs and clasped his hands around the other knee. "What do you mean by a flying saucer, Colonel?" he asked.

  "Well, let's just say any strange object in the sky that you can't explain."

  "No!" said Henry. I breathed a little easier and Freddy reached for another handful of sandwiches.

  The Colonel popped the rest of his sandwich into his mouth and chewed it thoughtfully. "That's too bad!" he said. "I just hoped you boys might have some valuable information for me."

  Freddy gurgled something unintelligible through a mouthful of sliced cucumber.

  "Yes, I certainly agree!" said the Colonel. "You were right, Henry. Those sandwiches are awfully good. I think I'll just have another." But his hand stopped in mid-air as he saw that the plate was already empty.

  "You have to move fast when you're at the same table with Freddy," said Henry. "Let me get you another from the kitchen."

  "Oh, no! Thank you," said the Colonel. "I think I'd better be getting on now, anyway." And he picked up his hat and strode to the door.

  "Whew!" I whistled when the Colonel had gone. "Maybe we'd better lay low for a while."

  "You told a lie!" said Freddy Muldoon, pointing a stubby finger at Henry.

  "No, I didn't," Henry protested. "He asked me if I had seen anything in the sky that I couldn't explain, and I said 'No,' and that's the truth."

  Freddy thought this over for a while. "Boy, you ought to be a politician when you grow up!" he said, finally. "If you ever run for President, remind me to vote for somebody else."

  "I still think we ought to lay low for a while," I repeated.

  "I don't know about that," Henry said. "That's just what they'd expect us to do. If Colonel March really suspects us, and I think he does, then we'd be tipping our hand by knocking off operations. He'd figure he had the problem solved, and that he guessed right. If we really want to obfuscate everybody, the thing we should do is launch The Flying Sorcerer as soon as we can -- tonight. Nobody would think we'd have the nerve to do that right after Colonel March came to see us."

  "Hey! You just used a forty-eight-cent word," said Freddy. "How do we obscufate everybody?"

  "That's obfuscate!" said Henry. "Let's just say it means we keep 'em guessing."

  Since Harmon Muldoon had led the Project Blue Book investigators to our operations center at the old zinc mine, we decided we had to become more mobile. What we needed was a big truck to mount all our equipment in, so we could move around from place to place. Zeke Boniface, who runs the most interesting junkyard in town, had just the truck we needed, so we took him into our confidence.

  Zeke's truck, Richard the Deep Breather, is an ancient rig, but he always manages to keep it running. Not that anyone else could. There is a mysterious relationship between Zeke and the truck that is hard to explain. You know how some mechanical things will only respond to the tinkering of one person? That's how it is with Richard the Deep Breather. If it weren't for Zeke, the old truck would be part of the huge pile of rusting junk in his yard, instead of the living, deep-breathing monster it is. True mechanical genius is a rare gift, and Zeke has it. He believes in doing things with as little human effort as possible. His junkyard is so full of labor-saving contraptions that he can run the whole operation without ever getting off the broken-down couch in his office if he wants to. It's a fact that Zeke has enough brains to be a millionaire, except that he'd rather fish.


  We mounted all our radio gear in the truck and Zeke picked up the Sorcerer after we had hauled it from its hiding place in the cove to the Lake Road, and grove it to the zinc mine well before dusk with Henry, Mortimer, and Jeff on board. Homer and I stayed behind to monitor the flight of the Sorcerer from the loft over the Snodgrass Hardware Store.

  Dinky and Freddy had a special assignment. Henry figured it might be the last flight for The Flying Sorcerer, and he wanted Dinky and Freddy to "obfuscate everybody real good," as Freddy put it. The radio news that afternoon had carried an announcement by Colonel March. He said his own investigation had disclosed no evidence of unidentified flying objects in the area, that the sightings which had been reported had a plausible explanation, and that he was sending the Project Blue Book investigators home. In answer to questions, he would only say that he had "solved the mystery" to his own satisfaction, and that he was reasonably certain there would be no more UFO reports coming from the Mammoth Falls area.

  Henry had gone into one of his blue funks when he heard the broadcast, and nobody could communicate with him for about fifteen minutes. When he came out of it, he pulled Freddy and Dinky off to one side and gave them some rapid-fire instructions. They scooted out of the clubhouse, where we had been planning the night's operations, and we didn't see them again until evening.

  From where we sat in the loft over the hardware store, Homer and I could just barely see the high ridge of the hills beyond Strawberry Lake silhouetted against the fading light of the sunset. In the Town Square, three stories beneath us, there were the usual late evening strollers and gossips swapping exaggerated accounts of the day's events, and rumors of imagined events. The Fire Department crew had set their hoses out to dry in front of the station during the afternoon, and they were now busily engaged in folding them back into the racks on the trucks. A four-piece Salvation Army band was playing hymns rather loudly, and a little off key, in front of Garmisch's Sausage Shop. Nobody was paying any attention to them, except two dogs that always hang around in front of the sausage shop for some reason. They were sitting on the curb, howling every time the cornet player blew a high note.