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THE SCARLET LAKE MYSTERY
A RICK BRANT SCIENCE-ADVENTURE STORY
BY JOHN BLAINE
GROSSET & DUNLAP, INC., 1958
NEW YORK, N. Y.
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
_Printed in the United States of America_
[Transcriber Note: Extensive research did not discover a U.S.
copyright renewal.]
[Illustration: _Grim-faced men came running to help still the
holocaust_]
Contents
I SPINDRIFT
II ASSIGNMENT: ROCKET BASE
III LAS VEGAS, NEVADA
IV SCARLET LAKE
V PROJECT PEGASUS
VI SIGN OF THE EARTHMAN
VII CARELESS MESA
VIII PROJECT ORION
IX GHOST TOWN CLUE
X STRANDED IN STEAMBOAT
XI DEADROCK OGG, MAYOR
XII SERVOMOTORS MISSING
XIII FLY THE WINGED HORSE!
XIV CHECK PILOT
XV THE OPEN HATCHWAY
XVI THE BOARD SHOWS GREEN
XVII WEIGHT, ONE TON
XVIII OUT OF CONTROL!
XIX THE UNYIELDING GROUND
XX THE EARTHMAN
List of Illustrations
_Grim-faced men came running to help still the holocaust_
_Etched on the bar was a puzzling inscription_
_A bullet whined off the top of the rock pile, and then there was
silence_
_"What are you doing here?" the man demanded_
_Rick hung in the air, as though suspended by some weird magic_
CHAPTER I
Spindrift
Rick Brant released the sling pouch with his left hand and let it drop
smoothly to the end of its double string. The sling swung through a
complicated arc, out to its full length, down again behind his back,
then, with rapidly increasing speed, over his right shoulder. With a
final whip he swung the pouch forward and released the free end of the
string at precisely the right moment.
The rock left the pouch at astonishing speed, whistling as it traveled
out to sea. Over fifty yards from shore it slapped into the water only a
few feet from a bottle that bobbed there as a target.
Don Scott, nicknamed Scotty, nodded his approval. "Okay, David. Another
hour of practice and you can go hunting Goliath."
Rick grinned. "I'm getting the hang of it," he admitted. "Let's see you
heave another one out there."
The boys had collected a pile of assorted water-polished stones from the
beach near Pirate's Field, and brought them to the front of the big
Brant house facing the Atlantic Ocean.
Scotty selected one of the larger ones, then checked his sling. The
sling was simplicity itself. Two pieces of strong cord were connected to
each side of the pouch, made of heavy canvas about four inches long and
three wide. One string ended in a loop, which Scotty slipped over his
right forefinger. The other string ended in a large knot, which Scotty
held between his forefinger and thumb.
Scotty placed the stone in the pouch and gripped it in his left hand,
holding the stone in place with thumb and forefinger. He took throwing
position, left hand holding the pouch slightly lower than shoulder
height while his right held the strings in the center of his body just
above his belt buckle.
He released the pouch and put his solid weight into the throw.
Rick's lips pursed in a silent whistle. The stone sang shrilly as it
flew up, up, up and far out. Then the trajectory dropped off rapidly and
it fell into the sea.
"Bless Bess!" Rick exclaimed. "Three hundred yards if it was an inch!"
Even Scotty looked a little surprised. "I'm going to quit while I'm
ahead," he announced.
Barbara Brant, a slim, pretty, blond girl a year Rick's junior, hailed
them from the porch, then ran down and joined them. "Hi! What are you
two doing?"
"Scotty just won the rock-throwing championship of the East Coast," Rick
told her.
Barby looked surprised. "He did? I thought you were waiting for Dr.
Gordon?"
"We are, but we decided to try out Scotty's new sling while we were
waiting."
The boys, and in fact the entire scientific staff of Spindrift Island,
had been in a state of excitement for the past few days because of a
telegram received from Dr. John Gordon. Dr. Gordon had been on leave for
some time, working on a special project at a rocket experimental station
in the West. A few days before, Dr. Hartson Brant, Rick's father and
head of the Spindrift Scientific Foundation, a world-famous research
organization, had received word from Gordon that Rick and Scotty were
needed for a special assignment. Gordon had not given any details in his
wire.
This morning Dr. Gordon had phoned that he had been delayed, but would
arrive by Navy plane around noontime. Long before noon, Rick and Scotty
had moved Rick's four-passenger Sky Wagon off the grassy runway that ran
along the seaward side of the island, then settled down to the
rock-throwing session.
Barby said, "I'm pretty good with a slingshot. Let me try."
Scotty handed her the sling. She looked at it dubiously. "What's this?
It isn't a slingshot."
"It's a sling," Rick explained. "Not a slingshot. You know--like David
and Goliath."
Barby looked her disbelief. "You mean David killed Goliath with two
pieces of string and a piece of canvas?"
"He probably used leather thongs and a leather pouch," Scotty said, "but
the idea is the same."
"Show her," Rick suggested.
Scotty picked up another of the larger stones and let fly. It dropped
short of the earlier throw, but the effect was enough to make Barby's
blue eyes open wide.
"Where did you get it?" she asked excitedly.
"Made it. Steve Ames showed me how, and how to throw."
The Spindrift Scientific Foundation, located on Spindrift Island off the
New Jersey coast, had been called upon several times to assist the
United States Government. In many of the cases, the scientific staff
worked under the direction of a topnotch intelligence agent by the name
of Steven Ames. Rick and Scotty had taken an active part, in spite of
the fact that they were only in their teens.
Working for JANIG, the intelligence group that Steve Ames represented,
had taught both boys a great deal about intelligence procedures. This
training was a major reason why John Gordon had called on them for
assistance.
"Isn't it a funny weapon for Steve Ames to use?" Barby asked. "I mean,
after all, spies are supposed to use guns or knives, aren't they?"
Rick grinned. "Sure. They carry knives between their teeth, and they
have at least two guns each. Walking arsenals, that is what they are. It
takes a strong man to be a spy, on account of all the heavy metal he has
to lug around."
Barby ignored him. "Scotty, how come Steve knows about slings?"
"It's a hobby. He and a few others are trying to keep the art of using
slings alive," Scotty explained. "It's been nearly forgotten."
"I see." Barby glared at Rick. "If you can't give me a civil answer when
I ask a question, I won't ask you any more!"
Rick pointed out, "You'll have to stop for now, anyway, because Scotty
and I have to leave on this special job of John Gordon's. Besides, the
only reason you're mad is because you can't go."
Barby always felt cheated when Rick and Scotty left the island on some
exciting expedition or job. She had vowed to be a boy in her next
reincarnation.
Scotty stepped in as peacemaker. "Barby won't mind," he said. "After
all, Jan Miller will be here in a few days."
After completion of _The Electronic Mind Reader_ case Hartson Brant had
persuaded Dr. Walter Miller, an expert who had worked with the Spindrift
staff, to join the Foundation permanently. That meant Barby would have
Miller's daughter, Jan, as a companion, and Barby was delighted beyond
words. The boys were pleased, too. Not only was Jan nice to have around,
but her presence--they hoped--would mean less trouble from Barby when
they were going off somewhere.
The Millers would move into one of the new cottages behind the orchard,
next to Parnell Winston, the staff cyberneticist. Howard Shannon, expert
in the natural sciences, and his family would be their other neighbors.
At the moment, however, Shannon and Tony Briotti, the staff
archaeologist, were away on an expedition in the Sulu Sea. Rick and
Scotty had been keenly disappointed at being left behind. But Dr.
Gordon's offer of a new job had cheered them up considerably.
"Shouldn't Dr. Gordon be arriving?" Barby asked.
Scotty looked at his watch. "He should. But he didn't give any definite
time."
Barby poked at a sling stone with one slipper. "Where are you supposed
to go?"
"Somewhere in Nevada, Dad says," Rick replied.
"I thought Dr. Gordon was at White Sands Proving Ground in New Mexico."
"So did I," Scotty remarked. "The telegram was the first I knew about
his working in Nevada."
Barby held up her hand. "Listen!"
A plane was in sight! Rick identified it as a prop-driven Navy utility
job. No doubt of it, Gordon was arriving!
They watched eagerly as the plane lost altitude, flaps and wheels
lowered for the landing. The pilot brought it in over the big radar
antenna on the laboratory roof, then dropped onto the runway for a
three-point landing opposite the orchard.
The three ran around the wing, bracing themselves against the prop
blast. Rick took the suitcase that was handed to him by Dr. Gordon, who
leaped lightly to the ground after his luggage.
The scientist, a short, wiry man with gray hair cropped crew-cut
fashion, waved to the pilot, then motioned the young people back as the
pilot turned with a blast of his prop and taxied to take-off position in
front of the lab.
Because of the racket, no one tried to talk until the plane was nearly
out of earshot. Then Barby spoke for all of them as they walked to the
house. "We thought you'd never get here!"
Dr. Gordon smiled his pleasure at being home again. He shook hands with
the boys. "You've no idea how nice and green this island looks after the
Nevada desert. And you've no idea how hungry I am! Is it too late for
lunch?"
Mrs. Brant answered him from the porch. "You have just two minutes to
wash up and come to the table, John!"
Hartson Brant appeared behind her. He shook hands with Dr. Gordon as the
three young people escorted him to the porch. "Welcome home, John."
"Thanks, Hartson. It's good to be back. Where are the others? Zircon,
Weiss, and Winston? I know Tony and Howard are off on an expedition, but
I thought the others were home."
"They are. Parnell Winston is probably having lunch at his cottage.
Hobart and Julius are in New York, examining some new equipment for the
lab. They'll be back tonight."
Rick was dying to ask questions, but he knew this was not the right
time. At lunch, perhaps, they might be given some details.
John Gordon looked at him and grinned. "Here's Rick Brant," he declared,
"politely holding his tongue when he's about to pop like a firecracker
with questions. Your self-control does you credit, Rick. Want one bit of
data to chew on while you're waiting?"
Rick gulped, then returned the grin. "Yes, sir!"
John Gordon lowered his voice to a confidential pitch. "We have an
enemy," he stated. "What kind of enemy may be seen clearly in the name
by which he goes." He paused.
"What name?" Rick asked impatiently.
"_Homo Terrestrialis._"
John Gordon turned and hurried upstairs to his room to wash up for
lunch.
Rick stared after him. What in the name of a simple-minded spacefish did
that mean?
_Homo Terrestrialis._
Man of Earth.
Earthman!