Danny Dunn and the Weather Machine by Jay Williams, Raymond Abrashkin

CHAPTER ONE
    Something from the Sky
    Two boys and a pretty girl, wearing swimming suits and with towels around their necks, stood in the shade of the woods. The blazing August sunlight was filtered and broken by the leaves which hung limp and dusty overhead.
    â€œGee, it’s dry,” said Irene Miller, shaking her glossy, brown pony-tail out of the way. “If we don’t get some rain pretty soon, there’ll be nothing left of the whole countryside.”
    The taller of the two boys, Joe Pearson, thin and dark, with a perpetually gloomy expression, glanced past her. “Oh-oh,” he said. “Danny’s got that look on his face again. Whenever he looks like that, it means trouble.”
    Red-haired Danny Dunn was staring into space. His blue eyes were glazed, and there was a strange smile on his freckled face.
    Joe went up close to him. “Danny!” he said. “Snap out of it. The last time you got that look on your face, you tried to make a jet plane out of a fire extinguisher.”
    â€œIt worked, didn’t it?” Danny replied, in a faraway voice.
    â€œYes, it worked,” said Irene. “And it went right through Mr. Winkle’s living-room window and wrecked his television set.”
    Danny shook himself. “This idea is nothing like that one,” he said, grinning at his friends. “I was just thinking of a way to prevent forest fires in dry weather. We could pipe water into hollow trees and rig up an automatic sprinkling system that would go into action as soon as a fire started.”
    Joe grunted. “Where would you get the water from? We’ve been having a drought—remember?”
    â€œDon’t bother him with details,” said Irene. “He just makes up theories.”
    Danny ran his fingers through his hair. “Trees store water in their roots,” he said. “We could get it from there, maybe.”
    â€œWell, okay,” mumbled Joe, beginning to walk on. “Just as long as you don’t take it from the swimming hole. In this heat, that’s all I’ve got to comfort me. And we haven’t had a swim in days.”
    Danny and Irene followed him along the path. Irene said, “Gee, Danny, maybe your idea would work. Why don’t you talk it over with Professor Bullfinch?”
    Danny’s mother, whose husband had died when the boy was very young, was housekeeper for Professor Euclid Bullfinch, a noted physicist and inventor. A great affection had grown up between the boy and the kindly, quiet scientist, almost like that of father and son, and Professor Bullfinch had taught Danny a great deal about science.
    â€œWell, I don’t know,” Danny replied. “I hate to bother him these days. He’s been working on a new type of power transmitter, and he’s been in the laboratory fifteen hours a day.”
    The trees ended at the edge of a clearing. In its center was a small, round pond, on the banks of which the young people had built a bench and a rough diving board.
    Joe dropped his towel. “Wow!” he yelled. “Last one in is a rotten egg!”
    He dashed forward. He ran out on the diving board and leaped into the pond.
    â€œThat’s funny,” said Danny. “Did you hear that?”
    â€œYou mean that plopping sound?” Irene said.
    â€œExactly.”
    â€œWhat about it?”
    â€œNo splash,” said Danny.
    He and Irene stared at each other. Then they ran to the edge of the pond. As they reached it, Joe stood up. There was no water in the pond at all, only soft, sticky mud which covered all the front of him. He wiped his face and glared up at Dan.
    â€œYou did it!” he howled. “You and your water pipes in trees.”
    He stumbled to the side, and Danny and Irene helped him climb out.
    â€œDon’t be silly, Joe,” said Irene. “The water has just evaporated. It’s the heat, and the lack of rain.”
    Joe looked ruefully down at