The Year When Stardust Fell

by Raymond F. Jones

  Chapter 11. _The Animals Are Sick_

  That night, Ken reported to his father the fate of the engine assembledby Art.

  "It did seem too good to be true," said Professor Maddox. He stretchedwearily in the large chair by the feeble heat of the fireplace. "Itbears out our observation of the affinity of the dust for metals."

  "How is that?"

  "It attaches itself almost like a horde of microscopic magnets. Itliterally burrows into the surface of the metal."

  "You don't mean that!"

  "I do. Its presence breaks down the surface tension, as we had supposed.The substance actually then works its way into the interstices of themolecules. As the colloid increases in quantity, its molecules loosenthe bond between the molecules of the metal, giving them increasedfreedom of motion.

  "This can be aggravated by frictional contacts, and finally we have themolecular interchange that binds the two pieces into one."

  "The only metal that would be clean would be that which had beenhermetically sealed since before the appearance of the comet," said Ken."Look--wouldn't this affinity of the dust for metal provide a means ofpurifying the atmosphere? If we could run the air through large filtersof metal wool, the dust would be removed!"

  "Yes, I'm very sure we could do it that way. It would merely requirethat we run the atmosphere of the whole Earth through such a filter. Doyou have any idea how that could be done?"

  "It would work in the laboratory, but would be wholly impractical on aworldwide scale," Ken admitted. "How will we ever rid the atmosphere ofthe dust! A colloid will float forever in the air, even after the cometis gone."

  "Exactly," Professor Maddox said, "and, as far as we are concerned, thewhole atmosphere of the Earth is permanently poisoned. Our problem is toprocess it in some manner to remove that poison.

  "During the past few days we have come to the conclusion that there areonly two alternatives: One is to process the whole atmosphere by passingit through some device, such as the filter you have suggested. Thesecond is to put some substance into the air which will counteract anddestroy the dust, precipitate it out of the atmosphere."

  "Since the first method is impractical what can be used in carrying outthe second?"

  "We've set ourselves the goal of discovering that. We're hoping tosynthesize the necessary chemical compound to accomplish it."

  "It would have to be a colloid, too, capable of suspension in theatmosphere," said Ken.

  "Correct."

  "If we do find such a substance we still have the problem ofdecontaminating existing metals. We couldn't build a moving piece ofmachinery out of any metal now in existence without first cleaning thedust out of its surface."

  "That's part of the problem, too," said his father.

  * * * * *

  Ken resumed his duties in the laboratory the following morning. Dr.Adams had warned him not to walk up College Hill, so he had borrowed thehorse Dave Whitaker still had on loan from his uncle. He feltself-conscious about being the only one enjoying such luxury, but hepromised himself he would go back to walking as soon as Dr. Adams gavepermission.

  On the third day, the horse slipped and fell as it picked its waycarefully down the hill. Ken was thrown clear, into the deep snow, butthe horse lay where it had fallen, as if unable to move. Ken feared theanimal had broken a leg. He felt cautiously but could find no evidenceof injury.

  Gently, he tugged at the reins and urged the horse to its feet. Theanimal finally rose, but it stood uncertainly and trembled when it triedto walk again.

  Ken walked rather than rode the rest of the way home. He took the horseto the improvised stable beside the science shack. There he got out theration of hay and water, and put a small amount of oats in the trough.The animal ignored the food and drink.

  After dinner, Ken went out again to check. The horse was lying down inthe stall and the food remained untouched.

  Ken returned to the house and said to his father, "Dave's horse slippedtoday, and I'm afraid something serious is wrong with him. He doesn'tseem to have any broken bones, but he won't eat or get up. I think Ishould go for the vet."

  His father agreed. "We can't afford to risk a single horse, consideringhow precious they are now. You stay in the house and I'll go to Dr.Smithers' place myself."

  Ken protested. He hated to see his father go out again on such a coldnight.

  Dr. Smithers grumbled when Professor Maddox reached his house andexplained what he wanted. As one of the town's two veterinarians, he hadbeen heavily overworked since the disaster struck. The slightest signof injury or illness in an animal caused the Mayor's livestock committeeto call for help.

  "Probably nothing but a strained ligament," Smithers said. "You couldhave taken care of it by wrapping it yourself."

  "We think you ought to come."

  When the veterinarian finally reached the side of the animal, heinspected him carefully by the light of a gasoline lantern. The horsewas lying on his side in a bed of hay; he was breathing heavily and hiseyes were bright and glassy.

  Dr. Smithers sucked his breath in sharply and bent closer. Finally, hegot to his feet and stared out over the expanse of snow. "It couldn'tbe," he muttered. "We just don't deserve that. We don't deserve it atall."

  "What is it?" Ken asked anxiously. "Is it something very serious?"

  "I don't know for sure. It looks like--it could be anthrax. I'm justafraid that it is."

  Dr. Smithers' eyes met and held Professor Maddox's. Ken did notunderstand. "I've heard that name, but I don't know what it is."

  "One of the most deadly diseases of warm-blooded animals. Spreads likewildfire when it gets a start. It can infect human beings, too. Howcould it happen here? There hasn't been a case of anthrax in the valleyfor years!"

  "I remember Dave Whitaker saying his uncle got two new horses from afarmer near Britton just a week before the comet," said Ken. "Maybe itcould have come from there."

  "Perhaps," said Smithers.

  "What can we do?" asked Professor Maddox. "Can't we start a program ofvaccination to keep it from spreading?"

  "How much anthrax vaccine do you suppose there is in the whole town?Before we decide anything I want to get Hart and make some tests. If heagrees with me we've got to get hold of the Mayor and the Council anddecide on a course of action tonight."

  Hart was the other veterinarian, a younger man, inclined to look askanceat Dr. Smithers' older techniques.

  "I'd just as soon take your word," said Professor Maddox. "If you thinkwe ought to take action, let's do it."

  "I want Hart here first," said Smithers. "He's a know-it-all, but he'sgot a good head and good training in spite of it. Someday he'll be agood man, and you'll need one after I'm gone."

  "I'll go," said Ken. "You've already been out, Dad. It's only 4 or 5blocks, and I feel fine."

  "Well, if you feel strong enough," said his father hesitantly. Fatiguewas obvious in his face.

  Dr. Hart was asleep when Ken pounded on his door. He persisted until theveterinarian came, sleepily and rebelliously. Ken told his storyquickly.

  Hart grunted in a surly voice. "Anthrax! That fool Smithers probablywouldn't know a case of anthrax if it stared him in the face. Tell himto give your horse a shot of terramycin, and I'll come around in themorning. If I went out on every scare, I'd never get any sleep."

  "Dr. Hart," Ken said quietly. "You know what it means if it is anthrax."

  The veterinarian blinked under Ken's accusing stare. "All right," hesaid finally. "But if Smithers is getting me out on a wild-goose chaseI'll run him out of town!"

  Smithers and Professor Maddox were still beside the ailing horse whenKen returned with Dr. Hart. No one spoke a word as they came up. Hartwent to work on his examination, Ken holding the lantern for him.

  "Here's a carbuncle, right back of the ear!" he said accusingly. "Didn'tanybody notice this earlier?"

  "I'm afraid not," Ken admitted. "I guess I haven't taken very good careof him."

&nb
sp; "Ken's been in the hospital," Professor Maddox said.

  "I know," Hart answered irritably, "but I think anybody would havenoticed this carbuncle; these infections are characteristic. There's notmuch question about what it is, but we ought to get a smear and make amicroscope slide check of it."

  "I've got a 1500-power instrument," said Ken. "If that's good enough youcan use it."

  Hart nodded. "Get some sterile slides."

  * * * * *

  Afterward, Smithers said, "We've got to get Jack Nelson first and findout how much anthrax vaccine he's got in his store. Nobody else in townwill have any, except maybe some of his customers who may have boughtsome lately. What about the college laboratories? Do they have any?"

  "I don't know," said Professor Maddox. "We'll have to contact Dr. Bintzfor that."

  "Let's get at it," said Hart. "We've got to wake up the Mayor and theCouncil. The cattle committee will have to be there. Nelson and Bintz,too. We'll find out how much vaccine we've got and decide what to dowith it."

  Two hours later the men met in the Council chambers of City Hall.Because of the lack of heat, they retained their overcoats and sheepskinjackets. The incrusted snow on their boots did not even soften. Insoberness and shock they listened to Dr. Smithers.

  "Nobody grows up in a farming community without knowing what anthraxmeans," he said. "We've got a total of twenty-eight hundred head of beefand dairy cattle in the valley, plus a couple of thousand sheep, andabout a hundred horses.

  "Jack Nelson's stock of vaccine, plus what he thinks may be in the handsof his customers, plus some at the college is enough to treat about athousand animals altogether. Those that aren't treated will have to beslaughtered. If they prove to be uninfected they can be processed formeat storage.

  "Some vaccine will have to be held in reserve, but if we don't clean upthe valley before next year's calf crop we won't stand a chance ofincreasing our herds. That's the situation we're up against, Gentlemen."

  Mayor Hilliard arose. "The only question seems to me to be which animalsare of most worth to us. I say we should let all the sheep go. A cow ora horse is worth more than a sheep to us now.

  "That leaves the question of the horses. Which is worth more to us: ahorse or a cow? We can't haul logs without horses, but we won't need toworry about staying warm if we haven't got food enough."

  Harry Mason of the fuel committee stood up immediately. "I say we've gotto keep every horse we've got. It would be crazy to give any of them up.There aren't enough now to haul the fuel we need."

  "A horse is a poor trade for a cow in these times," protested the foodcommittee's chief, Paul Remington. "Every cow you let go means milk fortwo or three families. It means a calf for next year's meat supply. Wecan freeze and still stay alive. We can't starve and do the same thing.I say, let every horse in the valley go. Keep the cows and beef cattle."

  An instant hubbub arose, loudly protesting or approving these twoextreme views. Mayor Hilliard pounded on the desk for order. "We've gotto look at both sides of the question," he said, when the confusion haddied down. "I know there are some horses we can lose without muchregret; they don't haul as much as they eat. What Paul says, however, istrue: Every horse we keep means trading it for a cow and the food a cowcan provide.

  "I think we need to keep some horses, but it ought to be the bareminimum. I've got an idea about this log hauling. Right now, and for along time to come, we don't need horses once the logs are on the road.It's a downgrade all the way to town. When the road freezes hard we cancoast a sled all the way if we rig a way to steer and brake it properly.There are only two bad curves coming out of the canyon, and I think wecan figure a way to take care of them. Maybe a team at each one.

  "This would leave most of the horses free to snake the logs out of thehills to the road. I'm for cutting the horses to twenty-five, selectingthe best breeding stock we've got, and including the ones needed foremergency riding, such as the Sheriff has."

  For another hour it was argued back and forth, but in the end theMayor's plan was adopted. Then Dr. Aylesworth, who had not previouslyspoken during the whole meeting, arose quietly.

  "I think there's something we're forgetting, Gentlemen," he said."Something we've forgotten all along. Now that we are faced with ourmost serious crisis yet, I suggest that you members of our citygovernment pass a resolution setting aside the next Sabbath as a specialday of prayer. Ask the ministers of all our denominations to co-operatein offering special prayer services for the safety of our animals, whichwe need so badly, and for the success of those who are working onCollege Hill and elsewhere to find a solution to this grave problem."

  Mayor Hilliard nodded approvingly. "We should have done it long ago," heagreed. "If no one has any objections I will so declare as Dr.Aylesworth has suggested." There were nods of approval from everyone inthe room.

  By dawn the next morning the crews were ready to begin the vaccinationprogram. One by one, they examined the animals to make sure the bestwere saved. The rest were slaughtered, examined for signs of anthrax,and most were prepared for storage.

  * * * * *

  On Sunday, while the cattle crews still worked, Ken and his parentsattended services in Dr. Aylesworth's congregation. A solemnity was overthe whole valley, and the only sound anywhere seemed to be the tollingof the bells in the churches.

  The anthrax outbreak had seemed to the people of Mayfield one more, andperhaps a final, proof that their hope of survival was beyond allrealization. Before, with severe rationing, it had seemed that theywould need a miracle to get them through the winter. Now, with thebrutally lessened supply of milk and breeding cattle, it seemed beyondthe power of any miracle.

  Dr. Aylesworth's white mane behind the pulpit was like a symboltestifying that they never need give up hope as long as any desire forlife was in them. In himself there seemed no doubt of their eventualsalvation, and in his sermon he pleaded with them to maintain theirstrength and hope and faith.

  In his prayer he asked, "Father, bless our cattle and our beasts ofburden that this illness that has stricken them may be healed. Bless usthat our hearts may not fail us in this time of trial, but teach us tobear our burdens that we may give thanks unto Thee when the day of oursalvation doth come. Amen."