CHAPTER FIVE

Lightning Strikes

The storm hit with the suddenness and impact of an earthquake at 6:00 A.M. An ear-splitting crash sent the five sleepers jerking up like jack-in-the-boxes. On all sides of the tower the sky was alive with jagged streaks of lightning. The thunder rolled through the air in continuous waves, shaking the earth. The tower creaked and trembled violently. Sandy saw a pair of binoculars on the table dance crazily over the edge and crash to the floor.

Dick Fellows leaped out of his bunk in T-shirt and shorts and swept the other instruments off the table. “A couple of you up here!” he shouted. “The rest of you pile onto chairs or my bunk. Insulated glass legs. Save your life if the tower’s hit. Keep your feet off the floor.”

Sandy kicked out of his bedroll and scrambled up on the table. Jerry and Quiz dove headlong onto the bunk. In a more leisurely fashion, Russ Steele and the ranger sat down on high stools.

They had just settled themselves when they were blinded by a tremendous ball of blue fire that shimmered in mid-air just outside the north window. An instant later, they were deafened by an explosion that sounded like the end of the world. The tower bucked madly, and Sandy was sure it was going to topple over or collapse. Gradually his vision cleared to reveal the most terrifying sight that he had ever witnessed in his entire life. The whole room was full of tiny blue sparks that sizzled as they ran in chains across the icebox and stove and along the metal strips of molding that trimmed the edges of the floor and ceiling. Everything metal was encircled by a sparkling halo. He could scarcely believe his eyes when he looked at the other people in the room. Quiz Taylor’s long hair was standing up perfectly straight on his head like a brush; the same was true of his uncle and Dick Fellows. His own scalp tingled strangely, and he could feel it bristle. Only Jerry’s close crew-cut was unaffected.

“Don’t be frightened,” the ranger said calmly. “There’s no danger as long as you sit tight.”

“On the contrary,” Quiz said brightly. “I wouldn’t have missed this for the world.” He grinned as he touched a hand to his hair. “A fascinating phenomenon of static electricity. Those sparks, too; they’re harmless.”

“You and your education!” Jerry moaned. “I’m petrified. Say, how long do these things last?”

The ranger shrugged. “Hard to say. Maybe ten minutes; maybe an hour.” His face was grave with concern. “And every minute it lasts increases the chance of one of those bolts starting a fire. If only it would rain!”

Sandy suddenly remembered the dog, who had remained below on the ground. “Poor Prince. I wonder how he’s taking this?”

The ranger smiled. “Unless I miss my guess, he’s holed up under my dynamo shack out back—along with an assortment of rabbits, squirrels and chipmunks. There’s nothing like a little lightning to make buddies out of natural enemies.”

“I wish I was with him,” Jerry said, “instead of sitting on top of this giant lightning rod.”

Abruptly it began to rain, a driving downpour, and miraculously, it seemed to Sandy, the lightning stopped. The boys began to cheer and crowded against the windows, watching the drops pelt the treetops below. But their elation didn’t last very long. In less than five minutes, the rain ceased, as if a giant sprinkler had been turned off. Within a quarter of an hour, the clouds disappeared and the sun beamed through. Thin wisps of steam began to rise from the leaves, giving the illusion that the entire forest was smoking.

Dick Fellows slouched despondently on his stool. “I knew it. Not even enough to moisten the ground. And God knows what that lightning started. A couple of good bolts hit trees; I could hear it.”

Sandy scanned the woods to the horizon on all sides. “I don’t see anything to worry about. No fire, no smoke.”

“It’s not that simple,” the ranger told him. “A fire may be burning for days before it’s even detected, particularly in stands of conifers—pines, spruce, et cetera—where the duff is thick. For example, suppose one of those lightning bolts struck a snag—a dead tree—all dry and punky like those sticks the kids light fireworks with. Maybe there’s a single spark smoldering deep down in the trunk, below the surface. Maybe it’s as big around as a pea today; tomorrow it may be the size of a penny. It’s got plenty of time—and lots of fuel. Slowly it will spread, eating up through the duff until it reaches the surface. Now, it’s really ready to go, once it hits the open air and has all that lovely litter on the forest floor to feed on. If we’re lucky, we’ll spot it now because of the smoke.” He stared out grimly across the trees. “With everything so dry, we’d have to be real lucky to control it before it blazes up in the brush and crowns.”

“Crowns?” Jerry said doubtfully.

“Burns through the top of the trees,” Quiz explained, “in the foliage.”

“That’s _real_ trouble,” the ranger said. He turned to Russ Steele. “Gee, sir, I’m afraid I won’t be able to help you out today. I’m going to have to stay rooted up here for the next twenty-four hours.”

“Don’t apologize,” Russ said. “First things first. A forest fire at this time could really complicate my problem.”

“Hey!” Sandy exclaimed. “What would happen if that missing A-bomb was smack in the middle of a raging forest fire?”

Russ Steele looked vaguely troubled. “I don’t know for sure. Probably nothing. It would depend on a great many factors. I’m not anxious to find out, I can tell you.”

The drone of a plane motor suddenly drew their attention to the east window. “It’s a helicopter!” Quiz said excitedly.

“Come on!” Russ said, heading for the door. “Let’s go downstairs.”

No sooner had they reached the ground than Prince came crawling out from under a small shed at the edge of the clearing, barking happily and leaping all over Russ Steele. Russ scratched his head, chuckling. “Dick had you pegged dead to rights, you old coward.”

Jerry knelt down solemnly and held out his right hand to the dog. “Shake, old buddy. Us cowards have to stick together.”

The boys waved as the big chopper began to circle the tower in tightening circles, losing altitude until it was almost level with the observation booth. Slowly it cut speed, until at last it seemed to be hanging motionless in space, held aloft by the great whirling rotors. A hatch opened in the bottom of the fuselage, and a crate was let down carefully on the end of a cable. Before it could touch the ground, Russ Steele rushed over and grabbed it, bringing the fragile package gently to earth. Quickly, he unhooked the cable and waved up at the helicopter. The cable was reeled in smoothly, then with a roar of its engines, the copter leaped into the air. Minutes later it disappeared over the treetops.

The boys watched with interest as Russ Steele unpacked the carton and removed two oblong black Bakelite boxes from the packing. They had a very unscientific, unprepossessing appearance.

“Is that all a Geiger counter is?” Jerry said with a trace of disappointment. “The transformer on my old electric trains looks more complicated.”

Russ smiled. “The Geiger counter is very simple, Jerry—especially when you consider how delicate it is and what it can accomplish.”

“How does it work?” Sandy asked.

“We made one in the science lab once,” Quiz said eagerly. “It’s just two electrodes, really. One of the electrodes is a thin metal cylinder; the other is a metal wire enclosed in a glass tube filled with gas—like a neon light. When the counter is brought near any radioactive substance, the rays given off ionize the gas—so it can conduct electricity—allowing the current to jump the gap and close the circuit, the same way it does when you switch on a light—”

“Only instead of a light, it activates an audible indicator,” Russ said. “That’s the _clack-clack_ you hear when the counter detects radioactivity. Look how sensitive it is.” He held one of the black boxes near his wrist watch, and it began to chatter vigorously.

“Holy cow!” Jerry exclaimed, leaping backward.

Russ laughed. “That’s the infinitesimal grain of radium in the luminous dial. So, you can feel secure that it will warn us if we enter an area where there’s any unusual radioactivity.”

He rummaged around in the carton and pulled out two canvas straps. “These hook on the ends so the counter can be slung across your shoulder like a camera.”

Prince came over and sniffed suspiciously at the plastic boxes. “Nothing to eat there, feller,” Sandy told him.

“Eat! That’s a good idea,” Jerry said. “I’m famished.”

Quiz was disgusted. “Only Jerry could think of food at a time like this. Who cares about eating when there’s an A-bomb lying right at your door-step?”

“I hope _not_,” Jerry said, looking around with an expression of exaggerated horror.

“Jerry’s right,” Russ said firmly. “The first order of the day is to pack away a substantial breakfast. We may be tramping through the woods until dark. Let’s go upstairs and see what Ranger Fellows has cooking.” He gathered up the two Geiger counters and walked to the tower.

Prince whined reprovingly as they left him at the foot of the steps. “I’ll bring you down a bowl of chow right away,” Sandy promised.

They were halfway up the stairs when a sudden thought struck Jerry. “Say, Mr. Steele, what would happen if one of those big lightning bolts hit that atomic bomb square on the nose?”

Russ Steele’s face contracted in a sour grimace. “I don’t know. And stop trying to spoil my appetite.”