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

himself. “Oh, gosh,” he said. “Mom will be wild.”
    â€œWhy? You couldn’t help it,” Danny said. “And maybe she can plant things on you.”
    â€œIt’s no joke. You know about the water rationing—everybody’s supposed to save water. So I promised I wouldn’t get dirty.”
    The other two looked serious. Then Danny said, “I’ve got it! We’re not far from the reservoir. We can go home that way.”
    â€œBut swimming’s not allowed in the reservoir,” Joe protested.
    â€œWho said anything about swimming?” Danny said. “We can dip up a handful of water and wash you off.”
    â€œIt’ll take more than a handful,” said Joe, wiping feebly at his chest.
    â€œWell, say half a dozen, then.”
    â€œBut, Danny,” Irene protested, “would that be right—taking water from the public reservoir?”
    â€œWhy not? The reservoir belongs to the whole town, and we’re part of the town, aren’t we? And I’ll tell you what,” Danny added. “Just to make it fair—when I get home, I won’t wash before dinner. That’ll save whatever water we use for Joe. There’s no sacrifice I wouldn’t make for my friend.”
    â€œYeah,” said Joe gloomily. “Thanks.”
    The reservoir was near the town line, about half a mile through the woods. When they came out on the sloping banks, planted with tall pine trees in regular rows, they could see how low the water was: the rocky island in the center stuck far above the surface, and all around the shore the line of the usual water level was clear and dark, like the ring around a bathtub.
    Danny led his friends to a sloping shelf of rock that thrust out into the water. “We can dip up a little from here,” he said.
    â€œGood!” Irene exclaimed. “It’s sunny right here, so the water we’ll use would have evaporated anyhow.” And she winked at Dan.
    But Joe took her seriously. “Say, that’s a great idea,” he said. “Now you can wash after all, Danny.”
    Danny did not reply. He was staring upward, shading his eyes with one arm.
    â€œLook at that,” he said.
    The other two followed his gaze. Something was shining in the sky, something silvery like a half-moon tipped upside down.
    â€œIt’s a parachute,” Danny said, after a moment.
    â€œA paratrooper?” Irene suggested. “No, it’s too small.”
    â€œMaybe it’s a paratrooper from a flying saucer,” said Joe. “Let’s go home.”
    â€œOh, wait a minute,” said Danny. “It could be the nose cone of a missile, or—or something interesting like that.”
    â€œInteresting missiles give me goose pimples,” grumbled Joe. Nevertheless, he waited.
    Lower and lower the thing floated. Now they could see clearly that it was, indeed, a small pale-blue parachute with a box of some sort attached to it.
    Suddenly Danny said, “Maybe it’s a bomb.” Joe and Irene drew nearer to him. The thing was dropping straight into the reservoir.
    â€œWatch out! ” Danny said nervously. “It may blow up when it hits.”
    Before they could move, the box touched the water and the parachute slowly folded about it like a crumpled sail.

CHAPTER TWO
    The Weather Forecaster
    For a long, breathless moment the three waited. Nothing happened. Then Danny said, “If it is a bomb, it’s wet by now and that will stop it from exploding.”
    â€œNot if it’s an underwater bomb,” Joe said.
    â€œI don’t believe it’s a bomb at all,” Irene said stoutly. “We didn’t hear any plane. And why would anyone drop a bomb that size on a parachute? I’ll bet it only came from a flying saucer, or from outer space.”
    At these words, Danny’s eyes widened. “Hey, maybe you’re right,” he said. “We ought to fish it out of