"Never mind, kid. Help me off with this suit."
"But listen, Dick. I read a story once--"
"Do what your brother asks, Robert."
"Will you let me finish, Pop? Listen, Dick, in this story a rocketeer
got locked out of his spaceship. So he unfastened the stern-braces and
got in through the rocket jet!"
"He ... did ... what?"
"Unfastened the stern-braces--"
"I heard you!" Dick's face had suddenly lighted. "Great day in the
morning, Pop--I bet it'll work! Hand me that jack-wrench ... that's the
one! So long!"
And he was under water again. This time he stayed under for more
than an hour. He bobbed up, finally, while Pop and Bobby were having
sandwiches. Pop said, "How's it going, Richard?"
"Give me a fresh capsule," demanded Dick. He took the oxy-tainer,
replenished his supply pack, disappeared. A long time passed. Too
long a time. Bobby began to feel apprehensive. He didn't say anything,
though, because he knew Pop was feeling the same way. And then--
"There he is!" said Pop. And sure enough, Dick was coming up out of the
water slowly. Terribly slowly. Bobby saw why. It was because he was
weighted by a square box held in his arms. A familiar square box. The
hypatomic motor of the _Cuchulainn_!
"Got it!" gasped Dick. "Easy, now ... it's heavy. I hope it'll work.
It's been under water so doggoned long--"
Joyfully, they lugged it all the way back to Delta Port. It was
sleep-time when they got there, but they were too excited to sleep.
By fire- and candle-light, Dick worked on the salvaged power unit,
patching, wiring, repairing. And at dawn he had it hooked up. He raised
his head gleefully.
"Get ready, folks! Here's the blow that smashes the hopes of the Wilkes
clan. Behold--_light_!"
And he closed a switch. There was a throbbing hum, a glow, a moment of
bright, joyous, welcome light. Then an angry growl from deep in the
bowels of the atomic box. And a sudden, blinding flash of blue light--
Darkness! And from the darkness, Pop's voice.
"Ruined! It was under water too long, son. Too long!"
"Too long," echoed Dick dolefully.
* * * * *
It was Grampaw Moseley who revived their dejected spirits. When they
had rested, he came to them, pounding his cane on the floor, snarling
at them with unexpected vigor.
"You young uns gimme a pain! Robert, I'm ashamed o' ye. An' you, too,
Dicky-boy! Actin' like we was licked just because a silly-lookin'
little old box won't act up right.
"We was gettin' along fine here without no atomic motor, wasn't we?
Buildin' a friendly, comf'table community? Well, why can't we go on
livin' like we was? We'll solve the heat an' light problem some other
way, that's all!"
Pop said, "I know, Father. But in time? After all, when the inspectors
come--"
"Inspectors my foot! They's one thing we got that the dad-blamed Wilkes
can't git with all their heat an' free power an' hot-an'-cold runnin'
water, ain't they?"
"Wh-what's that?"
"Vittles! One o' the requirements is the settler's got to git him a
garden growin', ain't it? Well, we got one. An' the Wilkes ain't.
An', dag-nab it, they ain't goin' to grow wheat an' tomateys an'
butter-beans out of a metal box! So stop belly-achin' and git back to
work, the two of ye!"
His words were harsh, but the bitter medicine cured the ill. There was
truth in what he said. So, putting behind them all dreams of motorized
accomplishment, the Moseley family once more returned to the task of
making complete and comfortable their home at Delta Port.
Dick tackled once more the problem of running water for their home.
This time he solved it with the aid of Grampaw's capable cooperage.
A huge tank, set into the eaves, stored the water. A hand-pump drew
it from the stream. An old, hollow brass doorknob, pierced with
drill-holes, secured to the end of the 'fresher pipe, made an excellent
spray for the shower.
Grampaw worked his farm ferociously; Mom and Eleanor and Moira spent
hours in the kitchen, jarring and preserving the produce he was now
harvesting. Bobby's chores piled up till it seemed he had scarcely any
time left for playing. He was enjoying himself, though. It was fun
feeling that his efforts were helping toward putting the Wilkes where
they belonged.
Moira seemed to be thriving on this pioneer life, too. She had
developed a sudden love for the country; even after a hard day's
work she would set out, almost every evening, for a tramp about the
countryside. She didn't show very good sense about it, though, for
like as not she'd go out all be-doodled up in a dress and high-heeled
shoes, and come back flushed and excited and hardly caring that she was
ruining her best clothes.
Once Bobby decided to go walking with her, but she slipped away before
he could announce his intention. He lost her down by the river-bank,
and since an hour of sun and dusk remained, decided to go swimming. He
had been in the water but a few minutes when the brush parted and there
was Junior Wilkes.
"Hello," said Junior.
"Hello, yourself," said Bobby.