Danny Dunn and the Weather Machine (4 page)

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 the 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.”

“First thing in the morning, then,” said Irene.

“Yes. First thing. I'll go phone Joe.”

Irene closed the window. Through the pane, she cast one more glance at the moon, round and gleaming, with the silvery edge of the big cloud closing in on it.

“When the moon is full, he turns into a monster,” she whispered. She shuddered, and turned away quickly. “Joe really shouldn't watch such childish programs,” she said.

* * * * *

Danny spent a restless and uncomfortable night, worrying about the Professor's machine, and, when he slept, dreaming of Mr. Elswing turning into a werewolf in the moonlight and gnawing on the dial of a barometer. He awoke feeling as if he hadn't had any rest at all, splashed cold water on his face, dressed carelessly, and went down to breakfast. He was trying so hard to remember the exact spot where the machine had fallen over that he absent-mindedly asked his mother to give him another fried nozzle.

Irene joined him in front of the house, and they walked up to the corner of Washington Avenue, where they met Joe.

“Bad morning to you both,” Joe grunted. “More trouble, and more trouble. Now it's clouding over. It'll probably rain and we'll get soaked.”

“That wouldn't be so bad, Joe,” said Irene. “Everybody's hoping that it
will
rain.”

“Sure. Me, too. But not when I'm stumbling around outside that weather station. Suppose Mr. Elswing is in a murderous mood today? I remember a movie in which, whenever the weather changes and a storm is coming up, this fellow turns into a bat—”

“Oh, shut up, Joe!” Irene snapped.

Joe looked surprised, but he shut up. They walked on in a rather moody silence, thinking about Mr. Elswing and wondering whether they'd find the missing nozzle, and oppressed in spite of themselves by the gray sky after so many weeks of sunshine.

They came, at last, to the weather station and went quietly around to the side. “Here's the rock where we set IT up,” said Danny. “But there's no sign of the nozzle.”

“Are you sure we lost it here, and not on the way home?” Joe asked. “You'd think it would be shining in the grass.”

“I'm not sure of anything,” Danny replied. “Vanderbilt may have carried it off somewhere.”

“Maybe he thought it was a bone, and buried it,” said Joe.

“Tell you what, Joe,” Danny said. “You go round to the other side and search, and begin working your way to the back of the building. Irene and I will search here. We'll meet you in the rear. If we can't find it, we'll just have to backtrack.”

“All right,” Joe agreed. “Only let's keep quiet so Mr. Elswing doesn't hear us.”

He left them, and Danny and Irene began combing the ground, moving slowly with bent heads, kicking aside tufts of grass and turning over stones.

“I don't know,” Danny said, after five minutes of this. “It's like looking for a needle in a haystack. It could be anywhere. It's just as likely to be a dozen yards away as right here.”

As he said this, he kicked his foot against a stone. There was a
clink
! The stone rolled away, and there lay the nozzle, its gray metal gleaming dully in the daylight.

“Oh, for goodness' sake,” Irene exclaimed, laughing. “Wouldn't you know it?” She picked it up.

“Sh!” Danny warned, involuntarily glancing at the station.

And there stood Mr. Elswing in the window, with his hands in his pockets.

“Hello, kids,” he said cheerfully.

Danny was opening his mouth to reply. Suddenly, Joe raced into sight around the edge of the building. “Run!” he screamed. “He's after me!”

Danny and Irene had been tense all morning. This was enough to set them off. Panic descended on them and, without thinking or waiting to ask any questions, they turned and fled.

Across Washington Avenue they tore, heedless of the traffic. They ran through the university grounds, dodging students, and galloped into the woods. They crashed through underbrush and brambles, and finally emerged breathless at the edge of the Professor's property.

Danny threw himself on the ground. “I— don't—care,” he gasped. “Let him—catch us. I can't—run—any—more.”

The other two fell at his side. After a moment or two, when they could breathe again, Danny asked, “By the way, Joe,
who
was chasing us?”

“Why, Mr. Elswing,” Joe panted. “I saw him through the window over on my side of the building. He yelled something at me, and started to climb through the window. So I ran.”

Danny's jaw dropped. “But he couldn't have,” he said. “He was standing on our side, and he smiled and said hello as sweet as pie.”

Joe scratched his head. “The pie over on my side was nothing but crust,” he said. “I'm sure I saw him.”

“You just thought you did,” Irene said.

“Maybe it was a double exposure?” Joe suggested.

“No, you were thinking so much about him, and about those horror movies of yours, that probably what you saw was Vanderbilt looking through the window, and you thought it was Mr. Elswing. You've always been unfair to that poor little pup,” Irene said.

“Poor little pup!” Joe rolled over on his back, and moaned. “Sweet little lap dog! Miniature poodle! Oh, man! I always knew there was something wrong with girls.”

Irene frowned and began to reply. But Danny got to his feet, and said, “Never mind that. Come on, let's get this nozzle back on the machine. Joe, you put it on. I swear I won't touch it again—and this time I mean it!”