"Fifteen miles," he guessed. "Sixteen, more like."
"Sixteen miles!" I did the only thing I could think of. I kicked my
buggy in the bumper, then collapsed onto the running board.
"Hell's beacons, man, I can't walk that far! Not without my Boy Scout
axe. What am I going to do? I've got to get to Westville before dark,
my car's on the squeegee, and so far as I'm concerned that thing under
the hood is a deep, dark mystery."
He said, "Let's see," interestedly, and gangled over the fence. He
lifted the hood and stared into the maw of my crate. His eyes darted
from one piece of machinery to another; after a while he began to
mumble to himself, and once he nodded.
Then he muttered, "'Pears like it oughta be this 'un here--" and
reached in and touched something. It clinked. He tightened it.
"Try 'er now," he said. "Wiggle somethin'. Make 'er go."
"Sure," I said caustically. "All I need is a nice long hill."
* * * * *
But I climbed in and kicked the starter. Then I yelled. Because the old
jalopy gave one disgusted snort, then began to purr like a fireside
tabby!
"She roars," he said, "purty. Don't she?"
"She do, indeed," I told him exuberantly. "Say, friend, why didn't
you tell me you were a mechanic? You've saved me three aspirins and a
broken arch."
"Me a mechanic?" he drawled. "Shucks, Mister, I ain't never seen the
innards of one of them things before."
"You've never--" I chuckled. "Cut the comedy. Then how did you know
what to do to make it start?"
He squirmed, a trifle embarrassedly, I thought, and shuffled his feet.
"Well, now, it just stood to reason," he said. "Seemed like that
thingamajig hangin' on the whatchamaycallit should've--"
I grinned. "Okay, pal. You've got secrets, I've got secrets, all God's
children got secrets. Anyhow, thanks for the first-aid. Here's a little
something for your--"
But he shook his head. "Aw, that's all right," he mumbled. "'Twarn't
nothin', Mister. So long." He grinned and ambled off across the field.
And that was that.
I reached Westville before dark, found the man I'd been sent out to
interview, and told him who I was.
"I'm Jim Blakeson," I said. "There's a rumor that I'm the Public
Relations Department for Midland University. It's a phony. Between you
and me and the League of Nations, I'm really the third assistant errand
boy for Culture, Inc. Now--about this new comet you discovered.
"Midland is all upsy-daisy to find such a promising young amateur
astronomer in the state. They're willing to subsidize you to the extent
of a newer and larger telescope if you'll agree to act as a lay member
of their observatory staff. What say?"
The ham star-gazer--Hawkins was his name--turned a delicate shade of
mauve. It was happiness, I think. For a minute I thought he was going
to kiss me. Then delight went out and he shook his head.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Blakeson, but I can't accept your offer. I'd love to,
but the truth of the matter is--I'm not the man who discovered that
comet."
I said, "Wait a minute. Maybe I'm in the wrong galaxy. You're Hawkins,
aren't you? You're the guy who plotted the comet's course, no?"
"I'm Hawkins. I plotted its course. But I didn't discover it." His
spirits were down around his shoelaces now. "That was done by a
neighbor of mine, a few miles down the way. Chap by the name of Hank
Cleaver. 'Horse-sense Hank', we call him."
My extra-sensory perception percepted. "Don't look now," I said, "but
is this Horse-sense Hank a long cold drink of wisdom about thirty years
old? Given to lack of speech and habit of chewing tobacco?"
"That's Hank," said the youngster. "He's the one. He's no astronomer,
you understand. But he happened to stop around one night while I was
charting. I started to explain something about cometary orbits, and
after a while he said he 'lowed as how I ought to take a careful look
in the region of Beta Draconis. I did, and--well, there it was. The new
comet. He said he just figured as how there ought to be one there!"
"Kid," I said solemnly, "something tells me the discovery of that comet
was peanuts. Just peanuts. I'm going to get you that subsidy, anyway.
And tomorrow morning I'm going back to have another talk with the guy
who earned it for you."
* * * * *
So I did. I found Horse-sense Hank poking around in his south forty and
told him what I wanted. He didn't answer for so long that I thought
maybe the shock had killed him.