The Year When Stardust Fell Part 16

Art Matthews came around later that same day. "You look worse than one of these engines that's got itself full of stardust," he said. "You must have been off your rocker, prowling around back alleys in the middle of the night!"

Ken grinned. "Hi, Art. I knew you'd be full of sympathy. What's going on outside while I've been laid up? Say--I don't even know how long I've been here! What day is it?"

"Tuesday. Not that it makes any difference any more."

"Tuesday--and it was Sat.u.r.day when I was working with the spectroscope.

I've been here three days!"

"A week and three days," said Art Matthews. "You were out cold for three days straight, and they wondered if your bearings were ever going to turn again."

Ken lay back in astonishment. "n.o.body's told me anything. What's happening outside?"

"It's going to be a rough winter," Art Matthews said, grimly. "Snow's started heavy, two weeks earlier than usual. I understand Professor Douglas thinks it's got something to do with the comet dust in the air."

"That figures. What about the fuel supply?"

"In pretty sad shape, too. So far, the stockpile is big enough for about a week and a half of real cold. They laid off woodcutting for three days to spend all the time converting oil burners, and making new heaters out of 50-gallon barrels and anything else they could find. It's going to be a mighty cold winter--and a hungry one."

Ken nodded, but he seemed to be thinking of something else.

"I've had an idea," he said. "How's your stock of spare parts in the garage?"

"Good. I always was a fool about stocking up on things I could never sell."

"Any blocks?"

"About a dozen, why?"

"Could you make a brand-new engine out of spare parts?"

The mechanic considered, then nodded. "I think I could put together a Ford or Chevy engine. What good would that do? It would run down in a few days, just like all the rest."

"Do you think it would, if you put it in a sealed room, and supplied only filtered air to it?"

Art's eyes lighted. "Why the d.i.c.kens didn't we think of that before? If we could keep the stardust from getting to the engine, there's no reason at all why it shouldn't run as long as we wanted it to, is there?"

"If a generator could be a.s.sembled in the same way, we could stir up a little power on an experimental basis, enough to charge our radio batteries. I wonder how much power could be generated in the whole country by such means?"

"I know we could get a couple of dozen engines going here in Mayfield, at least!" said Art.

"Why don't you get started right away? Get some of the club guys to help. If that filter idea works there may be a lot of things we can do."

Art started for the door. "Sheer genius," he said admiringly. "That's sheer genius, Boy!"

Ken smiled to himself. He wondered why they hadn't tried that when they first had the hunch that comet dust could be responsible. Maybe they could have saved some of the cars if they had rigged more efficient filters on the air intakes.

His thoughts went back to the attack. He was still thinking about it when his father and Sheriff Johnson returned.

"We took your word, Son," the Sheriff said, chagrined. "We got a warrant and searched the Tucker and Allen premises from top to bottom. We went out to Tucker's farm and went through the barns and the house. They've got a 2-day supply of rations just like everybody else.

"They screamed their heads off and threatened suit for slander and false arrest and everything else in the books."

"I'll get hold of Jed Tucker when I get out of here," said Ken. "He'll talk when I get through with him!"

"Don't get yourself in a worse jam than you've stirred up already.

Unless you can prove what you say, you'll just have to forget it and keep quiet."

Ken smiled suddenly. "It just occurred to me--when a banker wants to keep something safe, where does he put it?"

"In the bank, of course," said the Sheriff. "Wait a minute, you don't think...."

"Why not? The bank isn't doing business any more. Tucker is the only one, probably, who has any excuse to go down there. As long as things are the way they are, n.o.body else is going to get inside the vault--or even inside the building."

Professor Maddox and the Sheriff looked at each other. "It's a logical idea," said Ken's father.

"It's as crazy as the rest of it! We've made fools of ourselves already so we might as well finish the job!"

When breakfast was served the next morning, Ken found out his hunch had been right. He heard it from Miss Haskins the nurse and knew, therefore, that it must be all over town.

The nurse was wide-eyed. "What do you think?" she said, as she set out the bowl of oatmeal. "The Sheriff found that Mr. Tucker had filled his bank vault with food. He'd stolen it from the warehouse. The Sheriff's men obtained a warrant and forced Tucker to open the vault, and there were cases of canned goods stacked clear to the ceiling!"

"He must have been afraid of getting hungry," said Ken.

"To think a man like Mr. Tucker would do something like that!" She went out, clucking her tongue in exaggerated dismay.

Ken leaned back with satisfaction. He quite agreed with Miss Haskins. It was a pretty awful thing for a man like Mr. Tucker to have done.

How many others would do far worse before the winter was over?

The sun came out bright and clear after the series of heavy snowstorms.

The comet added its overwhelming, golden light and tinted the world of snow. Some of the snow was melted by the tantalizing warmth, but water that had melted in the daytime froze immediately at night, and the unequal contest between the elements could have only one outcome in a prematurely cold and miserable winter.

As the pain in his head dwindled, and he was able to get about in the hospital, Ken grew more and more impatient to be released. He wondered about the heating and other facilities in the hospital and learned the Mayor's committee had ordered one wing kept open at all times, with heat and food available to care for any emergency cases.

Three days after he was allowed on his feet, Ken was told by Dr. Adams that he could be released for the hearing of the Tuckers and Mr. Allen.

Ken stared at him. "I don't want to go to any hearing! I'm going back to the laboratory!"

"You can go home," said Dr. Adams. "I want you to rest a few more days, and then I would prefer seeing you get out in the open, working with the wood crew, instead of going right back to the lab.

"As for the trial and hearing, I'm afraid you have no choice. Judge Rankin has postponed the hearing so that you could appear, and he'll issue a subpoena if necessary to insure your presence."